


Quirky

by sandersstudies



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandersstudies/pseuds/sandersstudies
Summary: A US My Hero Academia AU featuring the characters from Thomas Sanders' Sanders Sides and other series.





	1. Virgil

Virgil ran his fingernail along a groove in the side of the wooden desk. Somebody’s initials had been scratched in pencil, long since smudged and faded. The first letter was an I, but the second was almost impossible to make out - an N, maybe?

In his anxiousness not to show up late to his first day at UA, Virgil had arrived almost an hour early to the classroom, and hadn’t even had the bravery to turn on the lights. He checked his watch. He’d been waiting almost half an hour. Was he in the right place? Maybe the class location had been changed and he’d arrived so early that he hadn’t heard. Maybe the first day of classes had been postponed. Maybe the admissions committee was playing a joke on him. Maybe-

The classroom door opened, and two boys peered into the room. The first was short, and Virgil didn’t recognize him. The second boy was tall, and wore glasses. He’d been in Virgil’s entrance exam. Neither of them had visible quirks.

_Better not underestimate them._

“Hello,” the shorter boy said. His voice was cheerful and round. “Do you mind if I turn on the lights?”

Virgil shook his head, and blinked as the lights came on.

“You were in my entrance exam, weren’t you?” the boy with glasses said. Virgil nodded. “I’m Logan.”

“Virgil.”

“You must be very skilled in using your quirk subtly,” Logan said. “I didn’t see you at all after the exam started.”

“Do you have a invisibility quirk?” the shorter boy asked, sliding into a desk next to Virgil’s. “There’s a girl in the general class with an invisibility quirk; I can’t believe she didn’t try out for the hero program.”

“No, I-”

“I’m Terrence, by the way,” the boy said. “Logan and I went to middle school together.” He extended his hand. Virgil shook it. As he did, more students entered the classroom, two boys and two girls, all chatting. They must have gone to middle school together. One of the girls sneezed, and a few electrical sparks shot out of her nose. The boys laughed.

_I can guess what her quirk is,_ Virgil thought. _There’s going to be a lot of competition._

A boy with golden hair slid into the seat in front of Virgil. He was the first student to sit in the front row. He turned around and smiled, and his teeth were so bright Virgil almost had to look away, but only nodded in return.

_He seems confident. He must have a really great quirk._ Virgil’s stomach twisted into bunny ears, and knotted.

Students were finally filling the room, and Virgil’s anxiety about his timing was replaced by a great feeling of inadequacy. How had he managed to pass the entrance exam when there were so many powerful competitors?

A girl walked into the room alone, and Virgil looked at the clock. Two minutes until class started. Was this everyone?

The door opened one more time. Someone held it open from the outside as a boy in a wheelchair rolled into the room. Whispers began.

“Was he at your entrance exam?” Terrence asked.

“No, not mine,” Logan said. Around the room, other students were saying the same thing.

“What do you suppose his quirk is, running people over?” the boy with golden hair asked. The girl next to him snickered.

The boy in the wheelchair was smiling, though he must have been able to hear the whispers, which quieted as a tall man, who had been holding the door, came inside. This must be the homeroom teacher.

“Good morning,” the man said in a lilting voice. A few students muttered greetings back.

“That’s Thomas Sanders,” Logan whispered. “He was top hero for three years in a row as Multi-Man.”

Virgil swallowed. He’d seen Multi-Man on the news years ago, his many forms running to stop crime and rescue disaster victims. He’d dropped off the map at a young age to pursue a career in education, but Virgil had no idea he taught at UA. It made sense; UA hired only the best for their hero program, and Multi-Man was one of the best.

“I’m so proud of all of you,” Mr. Sanders said, collapsing into the chair behind his desk and folding his hands on the table. “And you should be proud of yourselves. You’ve proven that you’re among the most qualified for the hero program here at UA, either through our entrance exam, or through personal recommendations from professional heroes.” He smiled warmly, and Virgil felt that his pride was genuine. “I’m Mr. Sanders, and I’ll be guiding your during your time at UA. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other very well this year. As is standard for our new students, we will begin with a quirk assessment. This test will use up the majority of your time before lunch, in place of your ordinary class schedule.”

“A test already?” Terrence said. “We just got here.” Other students were also muttering with similar apprehension.

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Sanders went on, holding up his hands in facetious defense. “This will not contribute toward your final class scores. However, I expect you all to do your best, as this is your first opportunity to prove your skills in front of myself and your classmates. I suggest you all pay close attention, because knowing your classmates will really contribute to your success here at UA.” Virgil had trouble reconciling Mr. Sanders’ bubbly voice with the heroic acts he’d seen on TV; it was a little relieving to think that heroes were, in the end, only people.

Virgil looked to his left and right to gauge the emotions of the other students. They were also looking around, and Virgil briefly met the gaze of the boy in the wheelchair. The boy had searching blue eyes, and Virgil was struck with the uncanny feeling of being watched from behind, or of being touched inside his skull. He looked away, and the sensation ended.

The girl who’d sneezed electricity raised her hand. “What kind of test will it be?”

“I can only tell you it will be a practical exam,” Mr. Sanders said. “I suggest you all put on your PE uniforms and join me at the track field. You’re dismissed.” He stood up, and there was a loud scraping of chairs as the students followed suit. Some practically leaped out the door, including Terrence and the golden-haired boy who’d sat in front of Virgil. Others, like Logan and Virgil, filed out slowly in the back of the line.

“Nervous?” Logan asked.

“Sort of,” Virgil said as his heart crawled up his esophagus. If he threw up, would he be excused from the test? Maybe he ought to fake an injury or an illness right away. But even worse, what if he did and the teachers determined that he wasn’t fit for the UA hero program? He couldn’t leave now that he’d finally made it. He swallowed his heart back down and followed Logan to the boy’s locker rooms. Several of the students were already halfway into their PE uniforms, and Virgil began trying to assess them. It was practically multitasking as he was trying to hide his own skinny limbs and torso behind his uniform while he looked. In contrast, one of the boys had thick arms practically bursting out of his uniform sleeves.

_Strength quirk?_ Virgil wondered. That was a popular hero skill.

The golden-haired boy already had his uniform pants on, but his top was off, revealing that he also had hardened muscle, which clenched as he laughed at something one of the other boys said. He was very tan, and his skin had a faint sheen. He caught Virgil staring.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer,” he said. Virgil blushed and looked away.

One of the boys had a faint white cloud in front of his mouth, like he was breathing heavily on a cold day, but the locker room was warm. One very slim student was changing, but didn’t remove the pair of dark sunglasses he’d worn since his arrival.

_Are those part of their quirks_

Logan, who looked like he had soft edges under his clothes, was surprisingly slender and toned. Terrence was also very physically fit. Virgil cringed. Was he going to be the weakest boy in the class?

He tried to avoid looking at the kid in the wheelchair. He’d been scared by the sensation he’d last felt when looking into those blue eyes, and felt awkward glancing at the boy as he changed. He felt like he was simultaneously intruding and being intruded on. Virgil felt vulnerable, and the boy looked vulnerable too.

The golden-haired boy made a joke as he and a few others left the changing room, and Virgil fumbled with his clothes. Being last to the field would be a bad way to start the test. He hopped out of the locker room on one foot as he tied his tennis shoe, and followed the others outside. Logan followed close behind.

On the field, Mr. Sanders was standing with a clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in the other, watching the students gather. There was a very large purple pen behind his ear, and Virgil once again found himself juxtaposing the heroic Multi-Man next to this vaguely cartoonish teacher.

The golden-haired boy and his friend had been joined by the electricity girl. The golden-haired boy towered over them, and stood between them like a leader. They must have been in middle school together. Other pairs and trios muttered to each other, pointing at the field and speculating about the assessment.

Virgil kept to the back of the group as the last of the students came out of the locker rooms. No use making himself visible and risking making a fool of himself any sooner than he needed to.

“What a really great group we have this year,” Mr. Sanders said loudly. The students stopped talking. “We’ll begin with a simple race,” he went on. “I’d like to repeat my request that all of you utilize your quirks to the best of your abilities. I know you weren't permitted to use your quirks in middle school, but it is no longer the time to hold back. This is to display your abilities to me so that your experience here at UA can be customized best to your skills. We will begin with a 50 meter dash, two by two, and I’ll record your times.” He smiled and gazed around the group. “Any volunteers to go first?” A few hands shot into the air.

Virgil’s heart was already pounding - what if running made it burst? He took a deep breath, but the exhale got caught in his throat and he had to suppress a coughing fit as tears built in his eyes.

“Very nice, I love the enthusiasm,” Mr. Sanders said as he looked at all the raised hands. “Terrence and Roman.” He pointed.

Roman was the name of the boy with golden hair. He stared at Terrence as the two of them moved to the starting line. Mr. Sanders pulled out a stopwatch.

“Ready...go!”

Mr. Sanders had barely started the stopwatch when he clicked it to stop.

“1.57 seconds,” he said. “Excellent, Terrence.”

“Thank you, sir.”

_A speed quirk,_ Virgil thought. Terrence had moved so quickly that Virgil had barely noticed he’d begun before he’d crossed the finish line, not yet out of breath.

“6 seconds exactly,” Mr. Sanders said to Roman. “Who’s next?”

Terrence’s early lead was not broken by anybody in the class. A girl named Rafaela made it in 2.9 seconds on a technicality, using her elasticity so her feet crossed the finish line long before her torso. Of the other students, Roman, Logan, and Kenny, the boy with a strength quirk, came in near the top.

Virgil was relieved to not come in last. He was in the lower half of the racing times, but had outrun a few other students. He was slim and fairly quick, and had managed to complete the dash ahead of his opponent, the boy with sunglasses.

“Our top three times were Terrence, Rafaela, and Kenny,” Mr. Sanders said. “But none of you slumped below my expectations. Next, we will begin the grip strength test.”

Virgil kept watching the other students as they completed the grip strength test, the standing long jump, and the sustained sideways jump. Terrence’s speed and Rafaela’s elasticity were early standouts, but Kenny had the best score in the grip strength test, while the girl with an electric quirk and a water-quirked girl named Dahlia used their quirks to extend the length of their jumps.

Between the grip strength and jumping tests, the boy in the wheelchair spoke quietly to Mr. Sanders, and Virgil noticed that he did not participate in the two jumps.

_How is he going to be a hero?_ Virgil wondered. _In fact, how did he pass the entrance exam?_

Like the first test, Virgil lagged behind several of his classmates, but never came in last. By the time they reached the final test, Virgil’s stomach had untied itself. The final test was just pitching a ball: he could do that.

“If you haven’t yet had a chance to show your classmates your quirk, now is the time!” Mr. Sanders announced. “This is your final chance to make a strong first impression, and much as I hate to say this, bad first impressions can be damaging for the rest of your time at UA. Who’d like to go first?”

Roman raised his hand - he’d volunteered first for every single event.

“Go ahead,” Mr. Sanders said.

Roman took the ball and tossed it back and forth between his hands, feeling its weight. He was sneering, trying to suppress a premature gloating grin. He stood at the line and tossed the ball to himself one final time. He glanced over his shoulder, and several students suppressed gasps.

Roman’s light brown eyes were glowing at the limbal ring, brightening his cheekbones slightly, so his skin looked almost like it was sparkling. He drew back the ball without looking, and only turned away from the students at the moment it left his hand.

The ball flew a few feet into the air normally, and Roman’s hand, which had cupped fingers from the throw, suddenly stiffened in the air. His arm went rigid, and his fingers stuck out straight. Virgil thought he could see Roman’s muscles outlined for a moment before a great glowing beam flew from Roman’s hand, arching to touch the ball and sweep it forward on a cushion of light. The ball travelled on the beam until it was almost out of sight, and a few students cheered.

Virgil felt his stomach drop. It was a showy quirk - the glowing eyes and glittery skin were more for appearances than use, but the power could not be denied. It was obvious that Roman had been in total control of the beam of light even as it travelled away from his body. Whether his strength came from his quirk, or the power of his quirk came from his physical strength, the symbiotic relationship was incredible, and the level of control totally unsurpassed by most students before their second or third year of hero training.

Virgil missed the exact measurement of Roman’s throw in his surprise, which didn’t decrease when Roman recalled the ball back to his hand with another beam. His limbal rings didn’t light up so dramatically with the recall, but Virgil didn’t think he’d imagined the gleam in his eyes.

Even Kenny’s pitch fell short of Roman’s.

“Your strength is there, but you lack control and the skill,” Mr. Sanders said.

One at a time, the students threw the ball. Dahlia blasted her ball with a spout of water, and the speed of Terrence’s throw lended him distance, but no other student reached Roman’s record.

Virgil looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen. As noon neared, the sun moved to be almost directly overhead. He stared at his feet. He’d managed to use his quirk to his advantage in the entrance exam, but as Logan had said, nobody had seen him.

_Of course they didn’t._ That was the problem.

“Who’s next?” Mr. Sanders said. “Virgil?”

Virgil swallowed and walked forward to take the ball from the teacher.

“Any chance we’ll get a taste of what happened in the entrance exam?” Mr. Sanders whispered.

Virgil shrugged and approached the throwing line.

_It’s now or never, it’s now or never, it’s now or never, it’s -_ Like Mr. Sanders had said, this was his last chance to make a first impression that would prove he could rival his classmates.

“Could you-” The words were coming out of his mouth against his will. “Turn around for a second?” Why had he said that? Well, he knew why. His face grew hot.

Somebody started laughing. It was Roman. Several other students joined in, only a few attempting to suppress their giggles.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be bashful!” Roman shouted. “You’re in the big leagues now!”

Virgil felt himself go red up to his ears. He had to get this over with. He flung the ball blindly and watched it thump to the ground only a few feet away. Students were still trying to hide their snickers.

Virgil retreated to the back of the group before Mr. Sanders even announced his distance. He picked at the sleeves of his uniform. He wished he was wearing his sweatshirt so he could pull up the hood and hide. Luckily, the students were quickly distracted by Mr. Sanders’ final announcements of composite score. Virgil heard his own name near the end of the list.

_Just so long as I’m not last._

“The only one exempt from this listing is Patton,” Mr. Sanders said.

_That must be the boy in the wheelchair._

“Almost all of you have reaffirmed the belief of UA’s teachers that your quirks make you excellent candidates for hero work following your graduation,” Mr. Sanders went on.

_Not me._

“But if you feel you haven’t had to chance to show off your abilities to the fullest, don’t worry. This is only your first test, and many will follow it. All of you will have your learning tailored to you here at UA, and no general test can possibly encompass the quirks of each and every student. Now, get back into your other clothes and return to the classroom.”

“That was interesting,” Logan said. Virgil hadn’t even noticed that the other boy was standing to his left.

“I guess. Some test, huh?”

“I must admit I was disappointed with the parameters. I did not feel I had an appropriate chance to display my skills.”

“Me too,” Virgil admitted.

“Do not worry,” Logan said. “Your admission to UA proves that you have the skills necessary for hero work. Admission is rigorous; they will not permit a student with insufficient ability to enter.”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right.”

“We should go. It will not look well for us to be tardy getting back.”

Virgil saw the boys in the changing room in a new light. After the test, most of them had had the chance to display their quirks for the rest of the class.

_Not me,_ Virgil thought. Who else hadn’t had the chance? _Logan, and the boy in the sunglasses, and the boy in the wheelchair - what was his name? Patton._

Roman was brushing off comments from the other boys about his pitch, but clearly enjoying the attention.

“Nothing to it, really, just takes a lot of practice,” he said, faux-humble. “You’ll get there. I was going to try for the entrance exam, of course, but I was lucky enough to get in on a recommendation. Yes, it’s an impressive quirk. I inherited it from my mother. She wasn’t a bad hero when she was my age: Lady Lightbringer, I don’t know, maybe you’ve heard of her.”

Everyone had heard of Lady Lightbringer. She’d married Flying Falcon in a massive celebrity wedding two decades ago and retired from hero work. Virgil had never heard that the couple had raised children, but plenty of superheroes kept their personal lives very much under wraps.

“That’s wild, Roman, I’ve got an action figure of your mom in my room,” one of the boys said.

“Is there anybody else in your family who does hero work?” another asked.

“Oh, not really. Well, a couple of my cousins have a company of their own. Actually, they invited me to come with them when they-”

Virgil had to get out of the locker room; he couldn’t listen to Roman’s bragging another minute. He snuck out while still pulling his shirt on over his head. The boy in the sunglasses was standing outside the locker room door. He had a long stick of candy in his mouth and was typing wildly on his phone. Virgil couldn’t make out his expression behind the glasses.

“Hi,” Virgil tried. The boy raised a peace sign without looking up from his phone.

“See you,” Virgil said, starting to walk away. The boy tilted his head upward in a slight nod, and Virgil turned and walked away. The boy hadn’t said a single word since his arrival, and Virgil still didn’t know his quirk.

_Maybe the sunglasses are hiding his quirk, Virgil thought. Just because he couldn’t use it in the test today doesn’t mean that it isn’t really powerful. Maybe a pair of sunglasses on that loud-mouthed Roman would make him a little more modest: that glowing-eye thing was clearly just a big gimmick._

Virgil sat in the same desk he had in the morning. No use trying to hide in the back of the classroom, everybody had already seen him make a fool of himself. Maybe he ought to thank Roman for drawing the attention off of him. Everyone’s excitement about Roman’s quirk seemed to have overshadowed Virgil’s massive failure on the field.

_At least the guy’s good for something._

The other students came back into the classroom a few at a time. Several of the girls had joined Roman’s group of sycophants in the space between the locker room and the classroom.

“Wow, the way you threw that ball and the beam, just sort of went - whoosh! You know?”

“And your eyes - does that happen every time? It’s looks so great, it’ll be amazing for your hero publicity.”

“Your mom is one of my favorite heroes! I always hoped she’d return to hero work someday, she’s been an inspiration to me.”

“Is it true you’re a direct descendant of the Luminescent Baby?”

Virgil pulled his hood over his ears and yanked his sweatshirt strings to tighten it around his head. How tight would it have to be to block out Roman’s obnoxious followers?

Instead of sitting in front of Virgil, Roman propped his feet up on a desk across the room, to better allow the other students to crowd around him.

“I can’t believe we have to spend the rest of the day in normal class,” Terrence said, slumping into the seat next to Virgil again. “We get a chance to use our quirks, and then we just have to sit here and learn algebra. At least lunch is soon.”

“Plenty of other subjects can be useful to hero work,” Logan said, sliding into the seat behind Virgil. “I learned several languages during middle school, and started preliminary studies in physics, anatomy, chemistry, and calculus. You never know when those skills can be useful in the field.”

“ _Several_ languages?” Virgil said.

“You’re talking about the guy who learned Klingon and Tolkien’s Elvish over his summers for fun,” Terrence said. “Logan’s got a knack for them so good it might as well be a quirk of its own.”

“There is actually a girl in the management class with a linguistics quirk,” Logan said. “Her name is Valerie. I imagine she will be very sought after for international hero deals. She’s seeking special permission to continue public use of her quirk after graduation.”

“That’s incredible,” Virgil said. _Good to know that even the students who aren’t in the hero course are showing off their quirks better than I am._

Mr. Sanders entered the room and closed the door behind him. He cast his gaze over the classroom, apparently doing a mental head-count.

“Thank you all for being punctual,” he said. “Considering your dedication during the exam this morning, I’ll allow the final fifteen minutes before lunch to be free time. I’m sure you all have plenty to talk about.”

“Who do you think the early standouts are?” Terrence asked quietly. “That stunt Roman pulled sure got a lot of attention. And apparently he got in on professional recommendations. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“I wonder who the other recommended student is,” Logan said. “There are generally two in each class, but I haven’t heard anything. Perhaps they want to keep it to themselves.”

“That would show some modesty,” Virgil said. “Which suggests they’re pretty different from our other rec student, Mr. Fancypants over there.”

“Growing up in a hero family doesn’t exactly lend oneself to a great deal of insecurity,” Logan said. “I’d imagine the other recommended student has had a very different path than Roman. Is anyone in your family a hero, by any chance, Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head. No use saying more than he needed to. “You?”

“No.”

“I have an uncle who works for a local agency,” Terrence said. “But I don’t see him often. That’s nothing like being Lady Lightbringer’s kid.”

“Your quirk is great, though,” Virgil said.

“I’ve said this before,” Logan said. “But his ability to not only travel at great speeds, but also to speed up all muscles equally and perform other tasks extremely quickly makes him a powerful outlier among those with speed quirks. Many heroes can use speed quirks for running, but lack the skill and control to actually execute tasks at the same speed.”

“Logan’s done a lot of research into hero skills and demographics,” Terrence said. “In case you can’t tell.”

Virgil was itching to ask about Logan’s quirk. Was it a photographic memory quirk, or something in his processing? It could even be sensitivity of the ordinary five senses. However, Virgil was sure that if he asked, Logan would return the question, and Virgil wasn’t ready to answer.

***

“This food sure is better than the stuff back at my middle school,” Virgil said, shoveling coleslaw into his mouth.

“UA hosts one of the most acclaimed hero programs in the nation,” Logan said. “It’s hardly surprising that they are superior in other areas as well.” There was a thin book to the right of his plate, and he frequently stared at it as he took bites of his food.

“Have you done a lot of research into the program, then?” If anybody would know, it was Logan. Virgil hoped he wasn’t being a nuisance - Logan would probably prefer to read his book than talk to a kid he barely knew.

“As well as I can, but much of the curriculum is kept private for the sake of student safety, and to prevent copycat hero programs,” Logan said. “An aura of mystery is also good for public image, of course.”

“Will the general courses even help you much?” Virgil asked. “It seems like you’re pretty well ahead of the class academically.”

“I’m hoping to pick up another language,” Logan said. “Elvish and Klingon are entertaining diversions, but not very useful in the real world, desafortunadamente.” He smirked.

“Spanish?”

“It’s one of the languages I’m more fluent in. I also hope to improve my mastery of science and mathematics, of course. Though it’s the hero program that gets the most attention, UA is a national leader in academics as well. If I had not made the hero program, I would have applied for support or management.”

“Have you always wanted to be a hero?”

Logan paused to think. “I’ve always been fascinated by them. The rise of quirks led to a massive shift in our culture which I feel anthropologists have not yet fully explored. However, as I said, my family has no history of hero work, and I suspected that my quirk would not lend itself easily to hero training.” He paused and glanced down at his food. “Perhaps I’m saying too much.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. Logan still looked downcast. “I can relate, sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

Virgil paused. Perhaps _he’d_ said too much. “Like I said, nobody in my family is a hero.”

“That’s not uncommon,” Logan said. “After all, only a small percentage of the population receives the certification for professional hero work.”

“Right,” Virgil said. “But UA is the best place for it.”

Logan gazed over Virgil’s shoulder at the next table. A few support students were laughing at a story.

“I’d like to glean knowledge from them in my time here,” Logan said. “The support students, that is. I’ve always been fascinated with the technological advances that come with hero design. I’ve done quite a lot of research into it.”

“That’s interesting,” Virgil said, glad that Logan had changed the subject. “I don’t know much about it.” While Logan was still distracted, Virgil gazed around the lunchroom. Roman was sitting at a full table of chattering students. Terrence had been invited by Dahlia to join her and her friends Kai and Elliott at the next table over, and he was talking animatedly about his performance in the entrance exam. A few other hero students sat with support or management students they knew from middle school. The boy in the wheelchair was at a table by himself.

“Hey, do you think we should let him sit with us?” Virgil said, inclining his head toward Patton.

“It’s possible her prefers to be alone,” Logan said. “And lunch is almost over. Perhaps we could extend an invitation to him tomorrow.”

“I’m about done, you?” Virgil asked, crumpling up a paper napkin in his hand.

“I think so,” Logan said. He stood up. “I’m quite intrigued to begin general courses. They may not be heroic in nature, but I trust they will be stimulating.”

Virgil followed Logan toward the tray drop-off and stared down toward his feet. Something bumped his shoulder, and he almost tripped.

“Watch where you’re going, Eyeshadow,” Roman said slyly as he strolled past. Two of his cronies followed him.

Virgil bit back a sharp remark and skipped a few steps to catch up to Logan.

“He seems nice,” Virgil snarled.

“Raring for a fight, more like,” Logan said, putting his lunch tray on the stand. “He’s very confident.”

“Where’s he going, anyhow?” Virgil asked. Roman was walking away from the cafeteria exit.

“I suspect he has plans to bother that boy you were asking about,” Logan said. Roman and his friends were closing in on Patton, who was just beginning to stack things on his tray to leave.

“Oh no,” Virgil muttered.

“Hey, Wheels, how fast can you go in that thing?” Roman shouted, still a few feet behind Patton. Patton didn’t look up.

“Is your quirk so powerful you messed up your own legs?” Roman tried again, still to no response. “Hey, are you deaf or something, too?”

Roman reached out a hand to touch Patton’s shoulder, and Patton finally turned around, locking eyes with Roman, who took two steps back. Roman’s hand was still extended in front of him, but now with a defensive stance.

“Hey, stop that,” Roman said, his voice wavering for the first time. Virgil remembered the uncanny feeling when he’d looked at Patton’s blue eyes. “Cut it out, I’m serious,” Roman snapped, louder this time.

“We should assist,” Logan said, beginning to walk toward the group. “If it escalates, it will be an unfair fight greatly in Patton’s disfavor.”

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah, okay.” _Sure, like two weak-quirked nerds and a kid in a wheelchair will be a match for Roman’s little gang._

“I’m giving you to the count of three to cut it out,” Roman snarled. “One...two…”

“Hey man, come on-” Virgil began weakly. He was still several tables away.

“Thr-”

“Cut that shit,” said a new voice. The boy in the sunglasses had stood up from two tables over, and was turned toward Roman.

“What?” Roman asked, breaking away from Patton’s stare.

“I said cut that shit,” the boy said. “You started shit with him, so don’t get pissy when he gives it back to you.” Kids at surrounding tables were “oooh”ing loudly as the boy drew their attention.

“Hey, Shades, who do you think you are, anyway?” Roman said. “Didn’t see anything impressive out of you this morning.” His friends laughed, but there was hesitance in their giggles.

The boy crossed his arms and didn’t respond.

“What are you wearing those glasses for, anyway?” Roman asked. “Trying to hide your face?”

“Don’t start with me,” the boy said.

“Let’s see what you look like without them.” Roman stampeded over the other boy’s words and reached out to snatch the glasses off his face.

The boy caught Roman’s wrist in one hand, and with the other slid his glasses down his nose, and then back up, so quickly that Virgil didn’t even have a chance to see his eyes.

The boy let go of Roman’s wrist, and Roman slumped to the floor. There was a moment of lingering silence as half the cafeteria stared.

“Anybody else have any comments to make?” the boy asked. Roman’s friends shook their heads and began to back away.

“What did you do to him?” Virgil asked. It seemed like Roman had it coming, but Virgil wasn’t sure if he was hurt or not.

“Shoo,” the boy said to Roman’s friends. The two students speed-walked toward the cafeteria exit. “He’s just asleep,” the boy said to Virgil. “I only took a glance at him, so he should wake up before classes start again.”

“Technically, quirk use is forbidden in hallways and the cafeteria without teacher permission,” Logan said. “Especially as an attack against a fellow student.”

“Well, I won’t say anything if you don’t, Specs,” the boy said. He extended his hand to Virgil. “My name’s Remigius Remington.”

“Remigius?” Logan repeated as Virgil took the extended hand.

“My parents sure are jokers when it comes to names, huh? Call me Remy,” he said, shaking Logan’s hand as well. “Sorry the quirk comes off a little scary.”

“It’d make a hell of a villain quirk,” Virgil said without thinking.

“I get it all the time,” Remy said with a sigh. “Just not my cup of tea.” He turned and extended his hand to Patton, whom Virgil had almost forgotten about. “You okay, little dude?” Patton’s gaze did not seem to hold or shock Remy as it had Roman.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Patton said. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Remy said. “We better get going to class.”

Logan and Virgil nodded good-bye and headed for the cafeteria’s large double-doors. Virgil didn’t feel too bad about stepping over Roman, who had started to snore lightly.

“Very interesting quirk,” Logan said. “And belonging to a very interesting person.”

“Interesting all right,” Virgil said. “That won’t help him out much in the long-jump or the ball pitch, but I wouldn’t like to face off against him on the street.”

“Eyes have a history of being linked to powerful quirks,” Logan said. “Even Roman’s limbal glow is evidence of that. Think of the hero Eraserhead, who could deactivate anyone’s quirk simply by looking at them. Throughout myth, the human gaze has been a powerful thing, but quirks have only made this more literal.”

“I guess,” Virgil said. “Something happened before, in the classroom, when I looked at Patton, too. I think his quirk is also tied to his eyes.”

“It seems Roman had a similar experience,” Logan said. “If so, it is likely that Patton’s quirk is also very powerful.”

‘But how did he pass the entrance exam?” Virgil said. “He’s in a wheelchair.”

“It is not logical to assume that his wheelchair is relevant,” Logan said. “Especially considering that we do not know the details of his quirk. It is also possible that he is attending UA on a professional recommendation.”

“You think he has a hero sponsoring him or something?”

“I am simply saying that a recommendation is a perfectly valid way to be accepted into the UA hero program.”

Virgil and Logan were among the first students to return to the classroom, and Virgil watched the door as the clock moved closer to 1:20, the start of fifth period. The bell rang just as Roman made a mad dash through the door, looking disoriented.

“An excellent display of quirk control is no excuse for tardiness,” Mr. Picani, the literature teacher, said to Roman, who was red with perspiration and embarrassment. A few kids giggled. Roman glared across the room at Remy, who was texting under his desk and did not look up.

***

“An interesting first day, I guess,” Virgil said to Logan as they left the school.

“I agree,” Logan said. “I did not expect to leave with a new friend.”

“What?” Virgil wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

“I apologize if that came off too forward,” Logan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “But I would like to consider you a friend.”

“That-that’s fine, Logan, that’s great,” Virgil said, trying to suppress a grin without pulling up his hood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Let us hope it will be as interesting as today.”

Virgil waved as the two split at the corner.

_I really did it. I really went to UA. And it wasn’t a mistake. They didn’t tell me, “I’m sorry, sir, it seems you were placed in the wrong class by accident - it seems you completely failed the entrance exam. You’ll have to go home now.” And nobody made fun of me - well, not too much. And everybody sort of forgot when I made a fool of myself. I’ll still probably think about it when I’m trying to go to sleep, but that’s okay. Oh, and I made a friend. Woah, and he said “friend” first._

What an interesting first day.


	2. Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has survived his first day at UA - now it's time for a challenge, and his partner is not very cooperative.

Spending the morning in Literature and Mathematics rather than running around outdoors was refreshing. Logan had put in a request to be moved up a grade in Mathematics class, as he’d looked ahead in the syllabus, and recognized the concepts for the year as material he’d already mastered. Unfortunately, the teachers were taking time to work out the logistics involved, and Logan was still in first-year math, the last class before Foundational Hero Studies.

“We’re one day in and I’m already lost,” Virgil muttered as students put away their Algebra books.

“I can help you, if needed,” Logan said. He thought about adding that he planned to move up one class, but refrained for fear of looking like he was bragging. Considering Virgil;s reaction to Roman the previous day, it was reasonable to suspect that he did not appreciate people with overgrown senses of pride.

“That might really help, thanks Logan,” Virgil said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Hello, class,” Mr. Sanders said, sitting at the desk. “For those of you who don’t know, I’ll be teaching your course in Foundational Hero Studies as well as serving as homeroom teacher.”

A student raised his hand.

“Yes, Dominic?”

“Can we see your replication quirk?”

“Only if it’s necessary for educational purposes,” Mr. Sanders said, smiling though his tone was serious. “All of you should try not make a habit out of using your quirks to show off. They’re tools to be used in your professional work, not party tricks.”

Virgil was staring pointedly at Roman, who raised his hand.

“Yes, Roman.”

“Isn’t publicity and endorsement an important part of hero work, sir?”

“Sure, but that’s not something you guys should be worrying about as first-year students. UA’s hero program focuses on developing and controlling your skills, not getting you TV commercial spots.”

Roman accepted this answer with a nod, but his brow was furrowed.

“We will be performing a group exercise today,” Mr. Sanders went on. “Now that you’ve had a chance to use your quirks for individual exercises, you’ll be able to use them in a team.” He clasped his hands together, as if imitating cooperation.

A few kids whispered eagerly, or pointed at one another across the room, and Mr. Sanders held up one hand. “I’ll be choosing the teams.”

There were scattered groans.

“Here’s some news you may appreciate,” he said, standing. “Today you will get the first opportunity to wear the costumes you designed.” Several students cheered out loud. Upon admission to UA, hero students had sent in suggestions to the UA support team, which would create a hero costume based on the designs. Costumes were meant to enhance a hero’s skills in the field in addition to being flashy, and were just as critical to a hero’s success as a powerful quirk.

Logan had constructed his own design with all the logic he could muster. He had researched fabrics that were breathable and easy to move in, but he felt he lacked the certain “pizzaz” in design that many heroes used to build their brand. No matter; skill and use were the main things, not showiness.

“Get changed, and meet me on the western field,” Mr. Sanders said. “That’s where your entrance exams were held.”

“Stuff sure moves fast here,” Virgil commented, but was almost drowned out by the excited voices around them.

“I agree,” Logan said. “But perhaps that is beneficial. The life of a professional hero can become busy, and snap decision-making and adaptability are critical skills.”

As they reached the locker room, they found their costumes labeled with their names. Logan held his up in front of him. It followed his design almost exactly. He’d chosen a black and white color palette with clean lines and no flashy logo. The main piece was a loose and athletic bodysuit, white with black stripes along the seams. There was also a slim jacket, black with white stripes along the seams, that pulled over easily for cold weather. He had no helmet or headgear, except a clear visor for rain visibility which clipped to the inside of his jacket when not in use.

“No flair for the dramatic, Logan?” Virgil asked. Logan turned around. Virgil was in all black clothing, including a cape and a fabric mask that pulled up from his chin to hide most of his expression except his eyes.

“I’m afraid not,” Logan said. “It is not one of my strong suits. No pun intended. I’ve aimed primarily for practicality.”

“Capes aren’t practical?”

“Too much risk for catching on things,” Logan said. “Could even be to one’s disadvantage if grabbed in a fight. Can be thrown over the head and be blinding. Can-”

“I get it,” Virgil said. “I just thought it looked cool. Maybe I should lose it, huh?”

Virgil sounded despondent. Logan hadn’t meant to be discouraging.

“Despite its impracticality, the appearance is certainly...cool,” Logan admitted. “Let’s go.”

The entrance exams had been held in an enclosed arena with a few rundown buildings and rubble all around. It was meant to imitate a disaster area, where superheroes were frequently needed for citizen recovery. Outside the arena and off to one side was a viewing area, with large screens live-streaming camera footage from several places inside the false city.

Though the arena itself was bland and grey, on the outer field Logan felt bombarded with bright colors and flashy logos. Many of the students had chosen costume appearance over practicality.

 _Latex?_ Logan thought. _That will only impede mobility._

“Alright, everyone!” Mr. Sanders said. “We’ll be splitting into two sides, heroes and villains!”

There was some quiet conversation.

“I don’t want to be a villain.”

“Maybe it’ll be fun.”

“We’re here to learn to be heroes.”

“Quiet down,” Mr. Sanders said. “Don’t get yourselves too worked up over a tool for an exercise. You’ll be drawing slips to see who is on which side, and from there I’ll put you into pairs for the next part of the exercise.”

Logan kept mental calculations of students on both sides as they approached Mr. Sanders to draw lots from a jar. _Heroes: Roman, Virgil, Kenny… Villains: Patton, Remigius, Rafaela…_

His turn came. Logan reached into the jar and pulled out a slip of paper, folded once. He unfolded it.

“Hero.”

It didn’t take long until all students had drawn. Mr. Sanders put down the jar and faced the students.

“Your sorting into hero and villain teams for the day is random,” he said reassuringly, “but your pairing will not be. Now that I’ve seen your initial work in yesterday’s test, I’ll be putting together combinations of quirks and personalities that will play to your own strengths and weaknesses.” Logan noticed that the older hero gestured frequently with his hands while speaking, drawing in the air in front of him as if painting a picture for the students. “Your grading on this exercise does not rest only on your wins or loses, but also on your ability to utilize these strengths, and overcome these weaknesses. The teams will be as follows: Virgil and Dominic will be facing Rafaela and Dahlia. Terrence and Remigius will be facing Logan and Roman. Patton and…”

Logan scanned the crowd for Roman, who was facing straight ahead and did not return the look. His costume was gold and white, with a short red cape and an emblem of a seven-pointed star on his chest. He had no head covering, and his dark golden hair was reflecting the sunlight.

Logan squinted. The gleam in Roman’s hair and shimmer of his skin were not artificial. They were part of his quirk, like the glowing eyes. Mostly useless, but flashy.

_Maybe he can blind a villain before he attacks._

“Pay attention, now,” Mr. Sanders said, and Logan turned away from Roman. The teacher was reading from a clipboard. “For this challenge, each hero team and their opponents will be sent into the field. The heroes’ goal is to find a false explosion device hidden somewhere inside, and deactivate it. You will receive additional points for capturing one or both of your villain opponents along the way. The goal of the villains is to locate the same device and reduce its time to detonation. You will also receive additional points for capturing one or both of your opponents. I assure you, the device itself cannot harm you in any way, but your opponents will have authorization to use reasonable force to prevent you from reaching your goal. Any questions?”

“Define ‘reasonable force,’” Dominic shouted out.

“Capture and restraint are fine, as are quirk forces that will slow or incapacitate your opponents. Causing serious unneeded injury to a fellow classmate, however, will result in your score being reduced to zero instantly. Any other questions?” This was the first time the hero teacher seemed stoic, and Logan wondered if students had been injured in previous years.

Nobody spoke.

“If that’s all, then the first team will enter the field in five minutes,” Mr. Sanders went on. “They will have fifteen minutes to locate the device before detonation. Virgil, Dominic, Remigius, and Dahlia, you will go first.”

“Wish me luck,” Virgil muttered.

“Luck is illogical,” Logan said. “I will wish you the skilled use of your quirk and your brain.”

“Thanks.” Logan wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm. “I’m going to find Dominic.” Virgil. began weaving through the crowd. Logan looked around for Roman again. He was standing with Kenny and Kai, who had been assigned “hero” status, and laughing. Logan had to push past several people to reach him.

“I think it would be best if we developed a strategy,” Logan said.

“I’ve got one,” Roman said. “Stick behind me and stay out of my way.”

Roman’s friends sniggered, and Logan frowned.

“I have no doubt that our opponents will be forming their own strategy,” Logan said. “It would be rational to plan to counter them and target any quirk weaknesses they have.”

“Listen, Specs,” Roman said. “I’m sure you strategized your way out of plenty of lockers in middle school, but if you just leave it to me, it’ll be fine.”

“It may interest you to know that I’ve done extensive research into Terrence’s quirk, and as he is our opponent, I suggest-”

“Specs, it’s going to be okay, I swear.” Roman clapped Logan heavily on the shoulder. Roman was almost a whole head taller than Logan, who was exactly one centimeter taller than the national numerical mean as of August second, which was the last time he had measured.

“Virgil and Dominic are going in!” Terrence shouted.

Logan turned to the screens which displayed live footage of the arena. Virgil and Dominic were entering the ruins. They were in very stark contrast to one another, as Dominic’s costume was entirely white. Every time the two ran through a shadow, Dominic stood out, and every time they were in the light, Virgil was like a dark blot.

“Where are Rafaela and Dahlia?” Roman asked.

“They entered over there and went into a building,” Kenny said.

Logan scanned the screen as Virgil and Dominic ran through the streets of the imaginary town.

“There!” somebody shouted. Rafaela’s arm emerged from a window and snatched Virgil’s cape.

 _I tried to warn him,_ Logan thought.

Virgil jerked to a stop, thrown off balance. Though he wasn’t near enough to the camera to be audible, Logan could imagine that he’d been choked by the sudden yank of fabric, and his hand went briefly to his neck before he pulled the cape out of the arm’s grasp.

Dominic had already whirled around, and as Rafaela’s other hand writhed out of the building toward him, he visibly let out a puff of air, and the slight cloud that usually hovered near his mouth expanded unto a mist between him and the arm, which paused and retreated. The cloud of mist contorted like a living thing and retreated back toward Dominic.

 _Dominic’s quirk is very interesting, but Rafaela’s mastery is especially impressive. I wonder what material she used in her uniform,_ Logan thought. _It clearly has the ability to stretch with her._

“Where’s Dahlia?” somebody else asked.

Dominic and Virgil stood back-to-back. Virgil had quickly recovered from the grab, and was now half-crouched and wary. Dominic said something to Virgil, who nodded, and the two moved toward the building where the arm had emerged, climbing in through a broken window.

“Look!” Kenny said, pointing to another screen. Dahlia had emerged from a building down the street, glancing back at where Dominic and Virgil had vanished inside. She started running down the street in the opposite direction.

 _A diversion, very clever,_ Logan thought. If only Roman was willing to...well, no use worrying about that now.

A camera had trained on Dominic and Virgil inside the building. There was no sign of Rafaela, but both boys were clearly on the defensive, glancing around the room before Virgil leaned in to Dominic to make some comment, and the two jogged upstairs.

 _Who knows how far Rafaela can extend her limbs?_ Logan wondered if she’d watched her two opponents from an upper window while distracting them. He glanced back at Dahlia’s screen. She was peering into windows as she passed, apparently looking for the explosive device.

An upstairs camera picked up Virgil and Dominic again, this time in a room with a great deal of rubble. For about twenty seconds, nothing happened. The partners scanned the room, and even peered out the windows.

Rafaela’s arm emerged suddenly from behind a large pile of concrete, slinking near the floor like a snake. Virgil’s mouth opened to shout a warning, but the hand reached Dominic’s ankle just as he turned around, and Dominic fell heavily to the ground.

Rafaela wasn’t strong enough to drag Dominic with one arm, and as her second one emerged, it had to face Virgil, who wrapped his hands around the wrist. The hand at the end of the arm twisted and flailed helplessly, and Rafaela stood up, revealing her face to the partners for the first time. Her teeth were clenched, and the arm Virgil held suddenly retracted, dragging Virgil halfway along with it before he let go. The other arm had extended even further to coil around Dominic’s lower leg. Dominic was grasping at it as it shook back and forth, preventing him from getting a solid grip. Logan was reminded of the crushing embrace of a boa constrictor. Virgil tried to cross the room to help, but Rafaela’s foot lashed out about ten feet in a quick kick to sweep his legs from under him. Virgil just has time to get back up before an alarm suddenly sounded.

“Dahlia made it!”

“Bomb detonated. Villains win,” a computer-automated voice announced. “Students, please leave the competition area.”

The fake bomb had reached zero, and the villains had won. Rafaela made a little cheer, and her fist sprang several feet above her head in her enthusiasm. Virgil and Dominic shared a defeated stare.

“Roman, Logan, Terrence, and Remigius, move toward the entrance to the city,” Mr. Sanders’ announced. Logan glanced around for Roman, who seemed to have vanished. He rolled his shoulders and grimaced.

When he arrived at the city entrance, Roman was there as well, glaring at Remigius, who was standing next to Terrence and preparing to enter a second gap in the outer walls. The villains and heroes would be separated by several buildings on their entrance into the city, and the groups would be out of sight from one another as the exercise began.

“All ready?” Mr. Sanders announced. “”Three...two…one.”

Terrence and Remigius dashed instantly through the opening, and Logan squinted. Terrence and himself knew all the limits of each other’s quirks. It would make them fairly well matched.

He’d only glanced away for a moment, but when he glanced back and began to jog forward, Roman was already a hundred feet inside. Logan sprinted a few steps to close the gap as Roman slowed to a stop at the first corner and glanced right and left.

“I should probably inform you about a particular element of my quirk before we procee-” Logan began. Roman’s hand reached back to silence him.

“You sure talk a lot, nerd,” he said. “But this is a situation for brawn, not brains. Why don’t you be a lookout?”

“I am an excellent lookout,” Logan admitted.

“Then stay behind me.” Roman dashed across the street and into a nearby building. Logan followed at a slog jog and paused outside the large doorway. He could hear Roman climbing some steps.

_Go on and let him fumble around, I suppose. There’s no way to get him to listen to me._

The only windows on the first floor were too small for a person to climb through, and the door opposite the one Roman had entered was boarded up. Logan glanced upward. The windows on the second and third floors were much larger, and only about half of them covered in glass, many broken. Neither Remigius nor Terrence was likely to be able to scale the building.

Logan kept glancing up and down the street, feeling vaguely exposed. Terrence could approach from any direction in seconds, and one glance from Remigius would be enough to incapacitate Roman or Logan for the rest of the competition.

Logan heard Roman descending the stairs, and the taller boy shoved past him on his way out the door.

“Nothing here, you seen anything?”

“I have not seen any _one,_ ” Logan admitted.

“You’re a great lookout, Specs,” Roman said, starting for the next building. “If you see Shades, let me know. I’d like to show him some ‘reasonable force.’” Logan couldn’t tell if Roman was being sarcastic or not.

The second building was much larger than the first, shaped vaguely like a hospital, with many broken windows on every side and three different entrances to the first floor. Virtually impossible to keep a lookout on all sides.

The first floor was a single large room, so as Roman ascended the stairs of the building, Logan followed him up a few steps and sat, with a good view of all three entrances.

_It will take Roman a long time to check the whole building. This one has eight...nine floors._

How many buildings could Terrence search in that time? Certainly, he slowed down as he got more fatigued, but even after a dozen staircases he was likely much faster than Roman. If he and Remigius had made a strategy beforehand, it was likely that the second boy was serving as an authentic lookout - ready to look out and knock out anyone who came close. They were excellently suited for the task.

Roman was probably ascending to the third floor by now, if he wasn’t dwelling too long in any room. Just half a block away, three two-story buildings crouched in the shadow of the metal Goliaths of the other towers. They would be an excellent place for hiding a bomb - fairly inconspicuous, likely with lots of small rooms for hiding things.

Logan stood up. He could search all three of those buildings before Roman even reached the ninth floor, and be back before Roman noticed. Even if the bomb wasn’t inside, if he managed to search the buildings so quickly, maybe Roman would take him more seriously, and they could develop a proper strategy.

He jogged for the first building.

***

 _Nothing in here, either,_ Logan thought triumphantly as he finished the second building. He headed for the door and emerged into the bright daylight. Roman didn’t look so impressive on a day as bright as this, but it was too much to hope that the sun would humble a character such as Roman’s.

Logan glanced down the street, toward the building where Roman was. The other boy hadn’t emerged, and must still be searching, but…

Logan couldn’t tell if he’d imagined the figure in the first floor window, and was too far away to look inside. He began to move toward the entrance, then sped up when he got close enough to hear the familiar patter of Terrence’s steps on the stairs.

 _Oh no._ By the time Logan was inside, Terrence - and possibly Remigius - had vanished up the stairs. Logan could still hear footsteps ascending, somewhere above him.

He took the steps two at a time, but had to rest his hands on his knees by the fourth flight. He inhaled sharply a few times, until he was roused by a crash up above. Roman shouted something unintelligible, and Logan dashed up the stairs again. As he came onto the fifth floor, he took in the situation at a glance.

Roman had focused a steady stream of light from his palm onto Remigius’ face, and was using all his other limbs to try and shove Terrence away from a cylindrical device on the floor. Terrence’s arms were moving almost faster than Logan’s eye’s could follow, and landed on the device several times, but never had time to grasp or manipulate it. Roman was taking minor hits solidly, his teeth bared and his limbal rings gleaming ominously. Remigius was covering his eyes with his hands, and tried to get closer to Roman, but tripped and fell in his blindness.

Logan sprinted and dove for the cylinder, and Roman cried out in astonishment as, with a deft motion, Logan disabled the device.

The alarm sounded.

“Bomb disabled. Heroes win,” the computerized voice said. “Students, please leave the competition area.”

Logan sighed in relief. He’d scraped his knees when he’d reached the bomb, but it didn’t matter; he’d won the exercise for the heroes, and finally proven himself to Roman and the rest of the class. He turned around and expected to see Roman triumphant, but instead the other hero pushed away Terrence’s extended hand of congratulation and glared at Logan.

“What was that?” he yelled.

“Excuse me?”

“Some mighty fine lookout you are! You just left, and I had to manage these two on my own.”

“I apologize, I-”

“How useless can you possibly be, Specs?”

Logan glanced at Terrence, who was standing by and looking uncomfortable.

“Give it up, Roman,” Terrance said. “You guys won, after all.”

“I would have had time to disable the bomb by myself if it wasn’t for you!” Roman snapped, not turning away from Logan. “You just delayed the mission and you could have cost us the win!”

“Students, please leave the competition area,” the computer said again, more urgently, over Roman’s voice.

“Come on, dude,” Terrence said.

Roman whirled around, clearly about to snap something. Remigius put one arm in front of Terrence, shooing him backward.

“We can have a repeat of what happened yesterday, if you’d like,” he droned.

Roman’s chest filled and emptied stiffly. He shoved past Remigius and started for the exit. He stopped at the door and glanced over his shoulder.

“Some hot shot you are, Shades,” he said. “You sure are brave when you can’t get hit.”

“And you sure are brave for saying so right as you head out the door,” Remigius responded. “Get lost, Sparkles.”

Roman inhaled sharply and he stormed down the stairs. Logan could have heard his stomps from three flights away.

“Thank you, Remigius,” Logan said.

“Getting real sick of that guy,” Remigius said, pulling a watermelon sucker out of his pocket, ripping the wrapping off in one pull, and popping it into his mouth. “And you can call me Remy, anyhow.”

***

Most of the class was quiet as Logan, Terrence, and Remigius emerged from the playing field. Roman was nowhere to be seen.

“Really great job, you guys,” Virgil said, walking up to join the trio as they moved away from the exit.

“And you as well,” Logan said. He was happy to put the competition arena behind him, for now.

“Well, but I lost pretty hard, didn’t I?”

“The important thing was your use of your mind,” Logan responded.

“It was impressive that you were able to hold off Rafaela so long!” Terrence said. “She has a really powerful quirk.”

Virgil’s lip twitched halfway to a smile as the group entered the spectation area. “Thanks, but Dominic deserves most of the credit.”

Remigius pulled his lollipop from his mouth with an audible pop. “Don’t put yourself down, now, honey, or I might have to put you down to sleep.” He crammed the sucker back into his cheek.

“They’re going in!” Rafaela shouted from the crowd. Up on the screens, four small figures were entering the arena, and Logan squinted to make them out. One the right, the villains, Patton and a boy whose name Logan could not remember, proceeded slowly, glancing back and forth cautiously. On the left, Kenny and Kai were dashing inside the first building.

“What’s Kai’s quirk?” Virgil asked.

“Shooting a kind of goo,” Terrance said.

“It’s actually a carbon-based material which includes organic polypeptides, similar to those in human DNA, which are likely formed due to replication near the surface of Kai’s skin during production,” Logan said quickly. Virgil turned to him with a confused look.

“It’s essentially goo,” Logan corrected himself. _Make it convincing._ He smiled widely, and Virgil turned away.

“That will be really useful for immobilizing an enemy,” Terrence said.

“Well, they’ve got to find them first,” Virgil muttered. “Who’s that guy with Patton?”

“October,” Remigius said slurringly around his lollipop. “He’s my cousin, and we went to the same middle school.”

“What’s his quirk?”

The lollipop clicked against Remigius’ teeth when he smiled. “I think it’s better to just let you find out.”

October was peering into high windows, Patton following behind him. Kenny and Kai had split up and were checking buildings individually. At one point, a beam collapsed, and Kai shot a projectile at it in shock, and then, though there was no sound from the screen, appeared to chastise himself.

“He’s a little jumpy,” Virgil muttered.

“How long does that goo stick around?” Elliot asked from somewhere behind Logan.

“Considering its construction,” Logan said. “One would expect it to be very resilient, but in actuality it decomposes fairly quickly, and will probably be entirely disintegrated within twenty-four hours if Kai does not personally get rid of it.”

“You sure know a lot about it,” Virgil said. “Did you go to middle school with him too?”

“Oh, no, I-” He fumbled. “I’ve only made some educated guesses, based on what I’ve seen.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Yeah, I guess you know a lot more about quirk stuff than I do.” His gazed dipped slightly, and Logan hoped he hadn’t made Virgil feel at all uneducated. They’d both made it into the program by the same test, after all.

“Look at Kenny!” Talyn shouted. On the screen, Kenny had punched through the boarded-up door of a building and climbed inside before clearing the rest of the boards with a small kick.

Meanwhile, October was also clearing rubble from in front of a door so Patton was then able to roll in. Once inside, he had to dodge the largest of the rubble, but was otherwise able to navigate the fairly open space.

October said something to Patton, pointing up a set of stairs, and Patton nodded. The other boy dashed up them and vanished from the camera. Patton rolled outside and into the next building, which had no boards across the door. He went around the first floor, peeking behind large rubble before rolling to the next building. He checked all the one-floor buildings on the block, and rounded back to meet October where they had began.

There was a brief mutter as Kenny and Kai appeared on an overhead camera, only a single street away from Patton and October.

“One loud noise and they’ll find each other,” Virgil said. Kenny was pointing around to Kai, perhaps explaining a plan to him. October and Patton were heading up the block toward the un-searched buildings, getting even nearer to the other pairing. If both groups turned the right corner, they would virtually run into each other. Several of the spectating students were practically holding their breath.

Patton’s wheelchair rolled over a board which had fallen off a nearby door, and the wood snapped in half resoundingly. Around the corner, Kai suddenly ejected his goo all the way from the tips of his fingers to his elbows. This, at least, explained why he’d given himself a short-sleeved costume. Kenny was splattered with the stuff and shouted loudly, so both heroes were momentarily distracted as October sprinted into a nearby building, followed almost instantly by Patton.

Kenny and Kai finally rounded the corner and glanced around wildly for the villains. On another camera, October was pointing upstairs in the building they were hiding in, and Patton nodded again. Patton rolled to the window, apparently also assigned the role of lookout, as Kai and Kenny dashed off in the opposite direction.

October, two flights up, appeared on yet another camera, crouching over the cylindrical false bomb. He muddled over the settings for a moment before reducing the time remaining from seven minutes to ninety seconds. He was down the stairs in a flash, and as he shouted something to Patton, Kenny and Kai whirled around a few hundred feet away.

Patton rolled into the street in front of October, and dodged a hasty shot of goo from Kai.

“Hey!” October shouted, standing with hands on hips as Kenny dashed toward him. The camera was near enough to him that Logan saw him wink, and the next moment Kenny stumbled to a stop and took a few woozy steps backward, eyes half-lidded.

A few students gasped or cried out.

“Is that his quirk?” Virgil asked Remigius.

“Part of it, just watch,” the other boy responded as he began to crunch the lollipop in his teeth.

October extended his pointer finger and then curled it towards himself in a universal “come here” signal. Kenny stumbled a few steps toward him. Kai, who had been watching Patton and trying to control the foamy goo emerging from his limbs, turned around and saw the bewitched Kenny for the first time.

“Is it mind control?” somebody asked.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Remigius said. “But I guess.” He pulled the bare lollipop stick out his mouth and flicked it deftly into a trash can.

A chime sounded just as Kai made a rush for October.

“Bomb detonated. Villains win,” the computerized voice said. October dashed to Patton and high-fived him. As he did, Kenny snapped out of his daze and thumped into a seated position on the ground, blinking in confusion. Kai reached out a hand to help him up, and the four boys headed for the exit.

“Still not sure how that one kid got in,” mumbled a voice somewhere behind Logan. “Can’t believe he and October beat Kenny and Kai.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. Roman was standing at the back of the group, muttering to his friends just loud enough that everybody else could hear.

 _He sure is competitive,_ Logan thought, _but there was no need to put down the other students._

“Somebody really needs to knock down that guy a peg,” Virgil muttered. “I thought he might learn his lesson after messing with you, Remy.”

“Some guys never learn,” Remigius said. “And some of those guys end up as head heroes anyway.” He crushed a small fragment of fallen lollipop under his foot, and turned to walk away.

Patton, October, Kai, and Kenny approached the spectators, and several students muttered congratulations, especially to October.

“What a cool quirk!” one student said.

“It would be amazing out in the field,” said another.

October brushed off the compliments, and the class was quiet as the next group entered the arena.

“So far the villains and the heroes seem pretty evenly matched,” Virgil said.

“I agree,” Logan said. “And my research would concur with you, as well.”

“Well, with research on my side, I’m awfully flattered,” Virgil said.

Logan could not always tell when Virgil was being sarcastic, so he only nodded. The other boy was mysterious, and Logan supposed that he liked it that way. After all, he’d chosen an all-black suit, and seemed fairly secretive about his quirk.

 _I can hardly call the kettle black,_ Logan mused. That would make him the pot. He also didn’t much like discussing his quirk in public, especially among so many talented peers, some of whom - he heard Roman laughing at something Kenny had said - would jump at the chance to tear down an opponent. He didn’t like to suppose that his fellow student meant him any harm, but Roman was quick to anger and, judging by his cold behavior toward Remigius, slow to forgive.

Virgil leaned down to mutter congratulations to Patton, who had rolled up beside him, but Logan noticed that he did not make eye contact. Patton’s gaze seemed invasive to others, and Logan wondered whether, like October, he possessed some form of a mind-control quirk. It would explain his recommendation to UA, and many mental quirks of that kind were very useful. However, if Patton had been prioritized over October, then his quirk must be even more powerful. The small and cheery boy seemed like no threat, but Logan made a point to remember to not to look him in the eye.


	3. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman thinks he's finally on the up-and-up, but a late-night escapade might turn everything around.

Roman drove the tip of his pencil into the corner of his wooden desk, creating a minuscule pit of graphite. Mr. Picani was bubbling off about literature somewhere in the background, but Roman couldn’t focus.

_I can’t believe Specs made me look so bad in front of the whole class yesterday,_ he thought. Still twisting his pencil, he glanced to his right, where Logan was shifting his gaze from Picani back to his oilcloth notebook, much heftier than Roman’s cardboard-bound pages.

_How pretentious._

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and raised his hand. “When did the Romantic poetry movement transition into Realism?”

“Excellent question, Logan, let’s talk about the influence of later authors...”

_What a teacher’s pet, too._ Roman’s thought was cut off by the crisp snap of the tip of his pencil breaking off, splintering fragments of graphite and wood like rubble around the edge of the tiny pit. He resisted chucking the pencil and stood up to sharpen it. The clunky roll of the pencil sharpener drowned out the lecture in the background.

He removed the pencil. The tip had broken off inside the machine, and he crammed it back inside to hear the grinding sound again. The machine was probably loud enough to be disruptive.

_Big deal. Hope this lasts long enough that the nerd misses half the lecture._

Mr. Picani cleared his throat. Roman glanced up. The teacher had paused, apparently mid-sentence, to watch as Roman stabbed the pencil sharpener repeatedly. The whole class followed his gaze, and Roman thought he heard a snort from the kid who was always wearing too much dark eyeshadow. His grip on his pencil tightened, and he felt a final give and heard a resounding _crack_ as the pencil broke in half.

Several students laughed, and Roman felt his face get hot. He turned around with half the pencil still in his fist and the other half in the machine, and dropped back into his desk.

Mr. Picani continued his lecture from where he’d left off, but Roman couldn’t hear anything except a sound like the ocean in his ears. He glanced to his left and right, and saw Logan continuing to take notes.

_Smug bastard probably thinks this is real funny,_ Roman thought. _He wouldn’t say so, though - he likes to act like he’s got no emotions. He’s probably a robot under all those layers of nerdiness._

Remy was just two desks beyond Logan, and was rolling gum between his teeth as he scribbled in his notebook. He hadn’t even glanced up when Picani had stopped class.

_Somebody needs to put that guy in his place, too._ Roman tapped his half-pencil against his leg. _I’m surrounded by a bunch of pretentious and quirkless jerks who all want to upstage me and make me look like crap._

He sunk lower in his desk. If he wasn’t coming out near the top of the class by the first evaluations, what was he going to tell his parents? They’d pulled all their own strings to make sure he’d get in on a recommendation, and after that first day on the field, it had looked like everything would be so easy.

That was the thing: when he had a chance to prove himself, by himself, he could do it—he could show everyone. It was only when other people got involved that he looked like such a fool. If Logan hadn’t totally abandoned him during the bomb exercise, Roman would surely have won easily. As it was, they’d come so close to losing that the match was almost a tie. It didn’t help that it was against Shades—what was his name? Remy—who’d already enjoyed embarrassing him once, and in front of the whole cafeteria and the upperclassmen, no less.

Roman was the trying to suppress the warmth in his cheeks and ears. Blushing wasn’t the way to start gaining back his reputation. He’d just have to prove himself, and that was only a matter of getting back onto that training field. He breathed deeply and rolled his fingers against the desk. Seeing the sparkles in his skin catch the light was always relaxing, and a little hypnotic.

_No problem, no problem,_ he told himself. _It’s only a few days in. Everybody will forget about all this stuff by the end of the semester. I’ll give them new stuff to remember._

The bell rang.

Kai tried to get Roman’s attention from across the room, but Roman only noticed Logan leaning in toward the eyeshadow kid and Terrence, and the three exchanged some comment.

_Talking about me, I’m sure,_ Roman thought. _No big deal, they’ll regret it later. It’s too bad Terrence likes those guys, his quirk isn’t bad, and he seems pretty cool._

But that didn’t matter, either. Kenny and Kai, who’d both gone to middle school with Roman, were still on his side. So were plenty of other kids. It was only a matter of keeping it that way.

***

Roman bounced slightly in his seat as Mr. Sanders entered the room. In the end, the other classes didn’t matter, including his embarrassment in literature. This was the Hero course, the real reason any of them were at UA, and if Roman was going to prove himself, it would have to be here.

“No exercises today,” Mr. Sanders said, sliding behind his desk with a grin as a few students watched nervously. “I bet you guys are tired after a couple days in the field. We’ll start today with a bit of housekeeping. You’ve started to get to know your classmates, and it’s time to elect a class representative.”

He held up his hand in anticipation as a few hands shot in the air. “Don’t stress yourselves out,” he said. “Just wait a moment.

“Selecting a class rep should not be about the student who is loudest or strongest, it should be about who you think is the best leader. It should be somebody who is organized and trustworthy.”

Roman’s chest expanded. Half the class was already on his side after the exercises of the first day of class, and only a few of the other students seemed like they could really compete.

“Students who would like to be eligible may write their names on the board now,” Mr. Sanders said. He held up a piece of chalk and was immediately rushed. Roman barely grabbed the chalk from the teacher’s hand before Terrence reached him, but as Roman reached the board he discovered that Logan had beaten him there, using a piece of chalk he’d taken from the board shelf.

Roman stewed as Logan wrote his full name in methodical cursive.

_He sure takes notes faster than this - clearly taking forever just to spite me._

Roman jostled for Logan’s place as the shorter boy stepped aside, and wrote his own name above Logan’s before handing the chalk off to Dominic.

Not all the students had come to the board. Remy was leaning over to make some comment to the boy in the wheelchair, and the boy with too much eyeshadow was doodling absentmindedly in a notebook.

“All right!” Mr. Sanders said as the final student, Dahlia, wrote her name. “I’m always excited by student enthusiasm. We have…” He glanced at the board. “Six candidates for class representative!”

Roman read the list. His own name and Logan’s were at the top, followed by Dominic, Rafaela, Terrence, and Dahlia.

“We’ll be putting this up to a vote,” Mr. Sanders went on, holding up simple ballots. “The student with the most votes will be class representative, and the student who comes in second will be our deputy representative.”

There was a tap on Roman’s shoulder, and he turned around to see Kenny and Kai showing him a thumbs-up.

“Good luck,” Kenny whispered.

Roman gave a thumbs-up in return and smiled as Mr. Sanders handed out the ballots, and he covered his up halfway as he wrote his own name on the line.

_No use pretending,_ he thought. _Can you imagine if I wrote Specs’ name on the line?_ He snorted to himself and folded the paper in half.

Mr. Sanders collected the papers in a small wicker basket, and tossed them a few times before pulling them out.

“Virgil, would you keep track of numbers on the board, please?” he asked.

Virgil slunk to the front of the room and picked up the chalk, scratching a shaky line each time the teacher counted a ballot. Roman bounced his leg as the numbers went up. He had four, five, six…

“And that’s it!” Mr. Sanders said. “That makes Roman our class president with six votes, and Dahlia our deputy president with five. Congratulations, you two.”

Roman only smiled and nodded, but inside he felt his heart turn over.

_A few people still voted for me, even after that mess yesterday. And Specs didn’t even come second._ The tally marks on the board showed that Logan was a close third behind Dahlia, but in the end he hadn't won. _Being bookish doesn’t make a hero, kid._ Roman glanced at Logan, searching for a hint of disappointment. Logan’s face was unconcerned as he opened up his notebook and picked up his pen.

_Probably real torn up inside, I’d imagine. Or maybe not. Sometimes seems like he doesn't feel anything._

***

“Hey, Earth to Roman,” Kai said.

“Hmm?” Roman’s fork had been suspended between his tray and mouth for thirty seconds. “Sorry, just thinking about some stuff.”

“You’re class rep now, man,” Kenny said. “You have to be alert! Attentive!” He karate-chopped the air jokingly.

“Very funny,” Roman said. He turned to Kai. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you heard about this new villain,” Kai said. “It was all over the news this morning.”

Roman shrugged. He’d woken up late and barely had time to get dressed before rushing out the door.

“A big logo was drawn on the sidewalk in front of city hall today - a black circle with half-circles for eyes.”

“Doesn’t sound like a villain to me,” Kenny said. “Probably just a street artist messing around.”

“Oh come on, right in front of city hall? Sure seems like a threat,” Kai retorted.

“Your dad didn’t mention it, Roman?” Kenny asked. Roman’s friends knew that the one-time Flying Falcon followed hero and villain news religiously.

“Oh, he’s been travelling this week,” Roman said. “Giving a speech at some college or something.” Despite his retirement, the Falcon still received frequent calls for visits, promotions, and sponsorships.

“I mean, considering how many heros graduate every year, it’s crazy that villains can keep up,” Kenny said.

“Half of them are just one-time petty thieves trying to get on TV without knowing the first thing about actual methods,” Roman groaned. He couldn’t stand wannabes. “Their quirk is kinda cool and suddenly they think they’re the next supervillain of the century. They always get unmasked as some twenty-something who works as a barista or whatever.”

Rafaela slid into the cafeteria bench next to Kai in one fluid movement, courtesy of her elastic limbs.

“No need to show off,” Roman muttered. Rafaela had always been his biggest middle school competition.

“Says Roman,” she retorted. “What are you guys talking about?”

“That logo that appeared last night,” Kai said. “Looks like there’s a new villain in town.”

“Oh yeah, some villain,” she snorted. “What’s he gonna do, spray-paint the heroes into submission? I’m really scared.”

“Exactly,” Roman said. “It’s clearly just a stunt.”

“Well, we could pull a stunt of our own,” Rafaela said, taking a bite of her pasta salad.

“What are you talking about?”

“What, Roman Lightflight gets into hero school and suddenly leaves his deviant ways behind? Becomes a model student? Reforms from his delinquency?”

“Oh, come on, we never did anything all that bad,” Kai protested. “We went to a midnight movie once and didn’t pick up the popcorn we spilled.”

“Exactly,” Rafaela said. “We’re high schoolers now, we have to step up our game.”

“What’s your point?” Kenny asked.

“They haven’t cleaned up that logo yet,” she went on. “My mom is a secretary in the building, and she said it’s going to be taken off _tomorrow_. They needed to buy a special cleaner, or something, I dunno.”

“And?”

“ _And_ there’s spray paint in my garage.”

Roman shifted in his seat. “You don’t think the area will be under surveillance?” he asked. “After this whole ‘new-villain-in-town’ thing?”

“Real heroes and police don’t talk like that,” Rafaela said. “You said yourself, some loser is just doing this for attention, and the media blew it up.”

“I’m in,” Kai said. “It’s like our rite of passage into high school.”

“It’s also sort of like a metaphor,” Kenny pointed out. “We’ve started learning how to wipe out villains, so we remove a symbol of villainy. It’s kind of poetic.”

“Ro-man,” Rafaela crooned. “Are you in?”

“Guys, we have homework,” Roman whispered, leaning across the table. He glanced left and right. The last thing he needed was getting reported to a teacher for this.

“Did running the course with Specs get to your head yesterday?” Rafaela asked, tapping Roman’s skull playfully.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Roman said, sitting back. He wasn’t fond of Rafaela acting like some kind of group leader. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Leave it to me,” she insisted.

***

“I can’t believe I left this to you,” Roman hissed, wiggling his hips in frustration.

“It’s not my fault your ass is so big,” Rafaela called back. “Doesn’t the window open any further?”

“It’s stuck,” Roman said. “Why couldn’t I just go out the door?”

“Oh sure, real advanced sneaking out,” Kai stage-whispered from the ground. “Just waltz out the front door. Are you insane? We’re in high school now.”

“My dad’s not even home, and my mom sleeps like a rock,” Roman insisted. “And it seems awfully convenient for you guys that I’m the only one who lives in a second-floor bedroom.”

“Oh, screw this,” Rafaela muttered. Her arms extended like eery eels under the moonlight and her hands reached out for Roman. “Come on.”

Roman groaned with humiliation as he took her hands. With a forceful flick, she retracted her arms, and Roman somersaulted face-first out the window and fumbled for a grasp on the shingles, skidding to a stop by jamming one foot against the drainpipe.

“Nice! Now jump down so we can get Kenny!” Kai said.

“Sure,” Roman said, keeping his screams internal. He slid onto his stomach and swallowed as he scooted backward and felt air under his feet. “How far am I from the ground?” He’d tried to sound casual, but heard the strain in his voice and tried to clear his throat.

“It’s not that far,” Rafaela said.

“I mean, it’s kinda-” Kai started to say.

Roman dropped. His landing didn’t jolt, but squelched, and he felt himself sink slightly.

“Thought that might be safer,” Kai said as Roman tried to disentangle himself from Kai’s goo.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Roman said, finally scrambling to his feet.

It was only a few blocks to Kenny’s house, but Roman felt like they’d been walking for an hour when he finally said, “One of us needs to hurry up and get a driver’s license so we can stop sneaking out on foot.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby,” Kai said. “Does the class president need a nappy-wappy?”

“It’s after midnight, cut me some slack.”

“Will you two hush?” Rafaela said as Kenny’s house loomed in front of them. Kenny was waiting on the step.

“Did you use the front door?” Roman asked.

“Duh, what else should I have done, climb out the window?”

“Whatever, let’s go.”

Rafaela claimed to know the fastest way to the city hall, and it was useless asking her it slow down; when she got excited, her legs tended to stretch an extra foot in front of her. Kai, the shortest, had to jog every third step to keep up. The only benefit of this was that the fast pace made the trip seem shorter, and it wasn’t long before they were near the center of town. Signs blinked the time lazily, and Roman groaned at the single-digit numbers. It was almost two in the morning. The streets were lit, but fairly deserted. It was the middle of the week, and even the pubs and clubs were mostly empty. A gas station and a 24-hour grocery were still bright, but most of the rest of the street was darkened.

“There’s the hall,” Rafaela said. “Let’s go see the logo.”

City hall was dark too, looming slightly in the darkness about a block away. Kai drew a deep breath to Roman’s left.

“You okay?” Roman asked.

“Rafaela is so fast,” he complained, standing with his hands on his knees.

“We’re almost there,” Roman said. “Come on.”

Kai groaned and began speed-walking again, and Roman fell in behind him

Roman felt a buzz on his thigh and fumbled in his pocket for his phone, trying not to slow down. As he glanced down, a passing man bumped into him, and Roman almost dropped the phone.

“Hey!” Roman snapped, turning over his shoulder to glance at the retreating man.

The man looked back. He was wearing a lange coat with a hood and high collar, but under the sharp illumination of the streetlamp, Roman thought he recognized a sharp cheekbone and dark eyes. Roman turned around quickly and shuffled up between Kenny and Kai.

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked.

“Shush,” Roman said. “I think I just saw Mr. Sanders.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed.

“I said shush,” Roman said as Rafaela slowed down to walk next to them.

“You think you saw who?” she said.

“Thomas Sanders,” Roman said. “I think he just bumped into me.”

Rafaela turned her head and scratched her neck, stealing a glance over her shoulder. “Well, if you saw him before, he’s gone now. He must not have recognized you.”

“He looked right at me,” Roman insisted, resisting the urge to look back down the street.

“What would Mr. Sanders be doing wandering the city at night?” Kenny said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re probably just nervous,” Rafaela said. Roman bristled. “Fine, fine,” Rafaela said, holding up her hands. “We’ll take the long way around, make sure nobody is behind us.” She yanked Roman’s arm as she turned down an ally, picking up speed again.

“What are we doing?” Kai groaned. “The City Hall is that way.”

“We’ll come from behind.” Rafaela said. “In fact...If we come from this direction, we’ll be right behind the hero’s honor statue. If anybody’s around, we’ll see them before they see us.” She kept one hand tightly grasped around Roman’s bicep, and he found himself being half-dragged as her strides increased with excitement.

“There’s the statue,” Rafaela whispered as they emerged into the square. “Come on.” She was only illuminated by the streetlamp for a moment before ducking into the shadow of the statue, and the boys followed her.

“Let’s get this over with and go home,” Roman hissed.

“Where’s the logo?” Rafaela asked. She stood up and peeked over the brick base of the statue.

“Everything clear?” Roman asked.

“Yeah. Wait…” She paused. “I think there’s somebody across the square.”

“Let me see,” Roman said, shifting into a crouch next to her. She pointed, and Roman stared between the bronze legs of the statue toward the intersection. There was somebody with a high coat collar walking slowly toward the building. Roman grabbed Rafaela and yanked her back to the ground.

“That’s who I saw before,” he hissed urgently. “It’s Mr. Sanders.”

“Lemme see!” Kai said, standing up. He was barely tall enough to look over the base of the statue. “It’s too dark, that could be anybody.”

“I saw him,” Roman insisted. “Why would I make that up?”

“What’s he doing, anyhow?” Rafaela asked. The figure was still in shadow, standing in one place outside the reach of the streetlights. He might have been gazing into the window of a nearby building. “Super creepy.”

“Is he looking at us?” Kenny asked, still sitting.

“I can’t tell,” Rafaela said.

“Should we go?” Kai slunk below the edge of statue again.

“I didn’t climb out that stupid window for nothing,” Roman said. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

The only sound was the distant buzz of traffic, the occasional rattle of a train, and a faint hum from the nearest streetlamp as the four students crouched behind the statue. The man across the street seemed to gather his bearings and began moving toward the city hall.

“He saw us,” Kai whispered fearfully.

“Shush. He might just be looking at the logo,” Rafaela said. The logo was still hidden from their view by the steps to the hall. The man approached the place and stood staring down. Roman wasn’t sure if he imagined the familiarity of the man’s shoulders, his gait. The hum of the streetlamp seemed to grow louder in Roman’s ears.

“I expected you to be here.”

Rafaela stifled Kai’s gasp with one hand, pulling the smaller student against her. Kenny and Roman shared a fearful glance. They all knew that voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” a second voice said. Roman and Rafaela squabbled for a look, frantically silent. A figure had appeared on the city hall steps, either emerged from the building or dropped from the roof, but it seemed as if he might have come from the shadows themselves. Rafaela gripped Roman’s arm so tightly he felt her nails dig into his skin.

Roman had to struggle to understand the next words over the roaring in his ears.

“It’s good to see you again, Falcon,” the first man said.

“I fear you may have the upper hand, my friend,” the Flying Falcon said. “You know who I am, and I’m afraid we haven’t met.”

The figure straightened up for the first time, revealing the face Roman had printed on his brain.

“Multi-Man?” the Flying Falcon said. “There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake, old friend,” Mr. Sanders said. The voice that was usually so warm echoed cold off the stone steps. “There’s a new era coming to the city. This is only the first sign. Forgive the publicity stunt, I needed you to be here.”

“And why is that?”

“Roman,” Rafaela whispered. “Roman, let’s go.”

“To make the second sign,” Mr. Sanders said. “By defeating one of the most iconic heroes of our era.”

“Roman, come on,” Kai insisted, tugging on Roman’s shirt.

The Flying Falcon took a step back, and Roman felt his throat grow cold — he couldn’t swallow. “I don’t want to fight you, Multi-Man,” Falcon said. “Let’s talk about this, you’re not well.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” Mr. Sanders said. “Don’t tell me you’re too soft to fight, Falcon.”

The Flying Falcon straightened. “I notified the police when you approached city hall. They’ll be here any minute.”

“You’ll have to keep me there until then,” Mr. Sanders said. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and Roman felt his stomach tighten as, with a sudden transition, two Mr. Sanders stood in front of city hall. This was the power that had felled villains, saved cities, prevented disasters.

And now his father was facing it.

“Roman, we have to get out of here,” Rafaela said. “The police are coming.” Kai and Kenny were already dashing for the alley.

The first Mr. Sanders split a second time, and the copies rushed toward the Flying Falcon, who assumed a fighting stance. In a flurry of blows, he felled both copies, who disintegrated as they hit the ground.

There were police sirens in the distance. Rafaela let go of Roman’s arm and sprinted for the alley.

More copies appeared and rushed up the steps, and the Falcon was able to use the height to his advantage, striking downward to take them out. However, as they increased in number, the hero began backing up the steps, unable to defend on three sides. His breath was coming quickly, and Roman could see him tiring. He swung his leg around in one huge kick to drive the copies back, and jumped up two more steps, crouching. With one leap, he moved to take flight. He was suspended for one moment in the moonlight, and Roman’s heart jumped.

One of the copies reached up and just managed to grasp the Falcon’s ankle. Thrown off balance, the Falcon’s momentum carried him forward and down into the tide of copies, of which there were now over a dozen. He vanished under them.

Roman’s hand flew up in a motion that was automatic. Something swelled inside him, and he felt his body grow hot. A tremor ran from his shoulder to his hand, and a blinding light shot through the legs of the statue, and into Multi-Man’s face.

Mr. Sanders cried out, raising his hands to his eyes, and as he stumbled backward, the copies melted into the air. The Flying Falcon was illuminated on the steps for an instant before the light also dissipated. A police car screamed around the corner, followed by two more.

Roman felt paralyzed, as if all the heat had streamed out of his body with the light and left him frozen.

Mr. Sanders was still recovering from the light, but heard the sirens and sprinted for the opposite intersection. Officers were streaming from the vehicles, and the first of them paused to reach for the Falcon.

“Don’t worry about me.” The hero’s voice was so quiet Roman could barely hear him. “He went that way, you have to stop him.”

More officers were following, but the dark figure was already out of sight. They were asking questions, shining lights, dashing around. One car drove in the direction of the fleeing man.

None of them noticed a teenager running from the scene.


	4. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton arrives at school to discover that many of his classmates are upset - some more than others.

_Something’s wrong,_ Patton realized as he rolled through the doors of the school. Upperclassmen in the hallway were whispering to one another. Some of the first-years looked almost dazed. A group of students from Patton’s class huddled around a locker, looking at something on a smartphone. Nobody was laughing.

Patton knew it was rude to use his quirk without permission, but he couldn’t resist extending his mind into the surrounding space: a jumble of sounds and emotions, too thick to sort through. A passing girl almost bumped into his wheelchair, and made eye contact for a split second.

 _Something happened._ The brief glimpse hadn’t been enough to give Patton any details. He stared around again, but everyone was rushing to class or focused on a conversation. Patton turned toward his classroom and rolled faster. He was a little early but he had a better chance of finding out what was going on there. A kid rounding the corner glanced at him, and Patton caught another image.

 _It’s the news, something on the news,_ he thought. The haze that hung over the school reflected that. His quirk was picking up general disturbances left and right, and most of the students’ thoughts seemed suspended in a cloud too thick to make out individuals. Something on the news — a murder? A natural disaster? An alien arrival?

When Patton reached his classroom, it was empty except for Virgil, who started to glance up and then immediately stared down at his notebook. He would, unfortunately, be very little help. He was always charged with nervous emotion, and today was no different. Whether he was even nervous for the same reason as the other students, it was impossible to tell.

“Good morning,” Patton tried.

“Mmm,” Virgil said. He was blocking his notebook with one arm, hunching over it so closely that Patton couldn’t see his face.

“What are you working on?”

“Nothing.” The response was clipped, and Patton took the hint to be silent as other students started to enter the room. Logan and Terrance sat down near Virgil, and Patton resisted using his quirk any more. Too much probing and people would notice. If Patton’s quirk had taught him anything, it was that whatever was upsetting the other students would come out eventually.

Some students were whispering harshly to one another as they entered the classroom, and others were silent. Patton tried to watch them out of the corner of his eye. A few, like himself, gave off bursts of confusion which grew dark as their friends leaned over to fill them in. Patton only caught a few words.

“Did you hear?…last night...police…”

 _There must have been a villain attack,_ Patton thought. That would explain it. But the attack must have been of some unprecedented size to raise such concern among the students. A little attempted arson or petty larceny was barely newsworthy as long as the event was stopped be a professional hero as most were. Only major destructions and deaths were widely known to the public, and Patton could remember no sirens, no explosions disturbing his sleep the previous night. If only he’d had time to talk to Dad in the morning…

Mr. Picani entered the classroom, began to shut the door, and then paused to hold it open one extra second as Roman rushed into the room with an apologetic nod. The nearest open seat was the one in front of Patton, and Roman slid into it instead of his normal seat on the other side of the room. Patton had never seen Roman look so demure. The boy’s shoulders slumped slightly, and his eyes were red, bloodshot even. When he reached down to unzip his backpack, Patton thought he saw his hand shaking.

 _I wonder if the villain attack was near his house._ That was always a scary event, especially late at night. _He’s not hurt at all, though._ Physical pain tended to fill a room like smoke; Patton could always tell when it was around.

Mr. Picani stood behind the front desk, and the room fell silent. He tapped a stack of papers against the table, and Patton felt the teacher’s nervousness seeping out of the cracks in his calm exterior.

“I’ll be filling in for Mr. Sanders today,” Mr. Picani said, adjusting his glasses twice. “I’m sure…” The teacher’s usually lilting voice was halting. “I’m sure some of you have heard the news that Mr. Sanders has been arrested.”

No gasp or chatter went up in the class, only silence and a wave of passive acceptance that Patton felt sweep the room. What had been momentarily doubted as gossip was now confirmed.

“I understand this may be a very stressful time for you,” Mr. Picani went on. “But we here at UA want to maintain our normal schedule in the face of difficulty as much as possible. In hero work, these kind of disturbances may interrupt at any time. That being said, if any of you feel you need someone to talk to, myself and the other school counselors always keep our doors open.”

Roman shifted in his seat.

The teacher went on. “Since homeroom is only ten minutes, we don’t have a lot of time at present, but if the class would prefer a more thorough discussion during Hero Studies, I can facilitate that as well. I’ll give you the rest of this time for yourselves.” He sat down.

Free time was usually coveted during the school day, but the students were not particularly talkative for the rest of homeroom. There was some whispering, clearing up of details, but that was all. Even Roman merely leaned back to pick the uneven edge off a piece of notebook paper, crumbling the shards between his fingers. None of his friends approached him, and he did not look up.

Patton scribbled absentmindedly in his notebook. Little swirls and delicate lines helped him focus his thoughts and keep out of other people’s heads, but he couldn’t help but notice Mr. Picani staring at a paper without moving his eyes, clearly thinking, distant. Patton wondered if the two teachers knew each other well, if they were friends, even. How much did Mr. Picani know about the arrest?

Patton felt something tap the wheel of his chair, and glanced down. A red pencil had rolled across the floor, just out of his reach.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “I think you dropped that.”

The other boy whirled around and in the split-second eye contact before Roman’s eyes fell to the floor, Patton felt a blast of confusion out of proportion to his discovery of the pencil. Patton sat back in his chair as Roman fumbled for the pencil and then turned around with a mumbled “thanks.”

Patton resisted asking any more questions. Roman was subdued at the moment, but Patton remembered his outburst in the cafeteria earlier in the week. If Remy hadn’t stepped in, Patton didn’t know how far Roman might have gone.

 _That’s another reason to keep my quirk to myself,_ Patton thought. Exposure to a quirked empath scared some people. Roman wasn’t the first to be startled, and even angered, when he realized what was happening. Patton didn’t like to think of his quirk as a weapon, but he couldn’t escape remembering that it could be used that way.

“It’s not polite to go through somebody’s thoughts like you’re rummaging through drawers,” Patton’s father always said.

Patton took off his glasses as the bell rang. It helped his quirk lay quiet when everything was soft at the edges.

***

Lunchtime was, for Patton, a respite from bombardment with endless thoughts. People’s heads got quieter when their voices got louder, and when he sat at a table by himself, the increased distance meant he heard even the strongest emotions as if through a wall. Joy sounded like a pounding waterfall, and Patton had often as a child fallen asleep to the sound of his parent’s warm thoughts like a distant stream. Sadness sounded like the hurried breaths that came before crying, jumpy instead of constant. Patton always tried to get rid of that sound. In middle school he’d purposefully sat with the kids whose brains sounded like that, to start a conversation. After all, people’s heads got quieter when their voices got louder.

Patton balanced his bagged lunch in his lap with one hand, rolling his chair with the other as he looked for an empty table. Remy waved from his seat between Terrance and Virgil, and Patton waved back. Virgil was leaning across the table to say something to Logan, who nodded in agreement. Patton could hear their waterfalls from a distance. It was none of his business, but Patton was glad that Virgil, always so nervous, had managed to make some friends.

Patton’s usual place near the back looked empty until he rolled past a group of upperclassmen and saw one figure half-hunched over the table. He almost turned to start looking for a new place when he recognized the wavy blond head.

 _Roman again._ It was strange that the class representative had abandoned his usual place among his friends, and stranger still that he’d chosen the place where he’d mocked Patton only a couple days before, but Patton was reminded of the kids who sat alone in middle school, and rolled closer. He dropped his bag on the table. Roman jerked.

“What are you doing here?”

“I always sit here,” Patton said, unpacking his lunch. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Roman said. He was still, and then suddenly moved to grab his tray. “I can go, if you—”

“That’s okay,” Patton said. He took a bite out of his sandwich. “I don’t mind.”

Roman settled back into his seat.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” Patton asked after a minute.

“Dunno.”.

“You must have sat here for some reason,” Patton tried again.

“Just don’t feel much like talking to them,” Roman said, a tinge of hostility in his voice..

“Or eating, apparently,” Patton said. Roman had been shoving his food around with a fork.

The two boys ate in silence for a minute. Patton kept a tight rein on his mind, fearing any probe might drive Roman away again. He was curious about the other boy’s behavior.

“You didn’t try for class president,” Roman said suddenly.

“No,” Patton responded. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Don’t you want to be the best?”

“At some things,” Patton said. “Not at being class president, though. Enjoying your new position?”

“Well, I haven’t done anything yet.” Roman paused. “Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“That’s okay,” Patton said. “Not many people want to talk to me anyway.” He stirred his pudding. _Not that I mind it much that way._

“Oh.” Roman said. “Is it because of—” He waved his hand in front of his eyes, and Patton noticed that he’d dared make eye contact.

“Probably,” Patton said. “You didn’t like it very much yourself.”

Roman used one fingernail to scratch at the edge of the table. “Actually, I.” He stared at his finger, and then dropped it into his lap. “I meant to apologize about that. I was a big jerk that day. I’ve been a big jerk a lot.”

“Thank you for your apology,” Patton said. He didn’t need to use his quirk to know that it was authentic. “Was that why you came to sit here?”

“Part of it, I guess,” Roman said. “But I think I’ve been lying to myself a little bit. I don’t know, really. Sorry to be blabbering to you like this, especially after I’ve been a jerk.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said. “I’m sort of used to it.

“I just don’t want to see my friends right now and, well, you seem like the kind of person it’s safe to talk to. Like you could keep a secret.”

“Thank you, I think.”

Roman’s eyes darted around unsteadily. “Could I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” Patton said. He felt a spark of curiosity.

“I was there last night, right before Mr. Sanders got arrested.”

“What?” If it wasn’t for his quirk, Patton wouldn’t have believed the statement for a second, but it was true — or, at least, Roman thought it was.

“I just need to get it off my chest, I guess,” Roman said. “Me and...some other students. We went out late last night to see the logo that got painted — did you hear about that?”

Patton nodded. It was another thing he’d heard a bit from other’s minds before he’d seen it on the news. But the logo was gone now, scheduled to be removed this morning.

“Well, we went to see it, and while we were there, I saw Mr. Sanders and...and the Flying Falcon.”

“That’s your dad,” Patton remembered.

“They had a fight like the ones you see in the movies and on the news,” Roman said. Throughout the conversation, he’d been leaning further across the table, toward Patton. “And right before I ran away I…You swear you can keep a secret?”

“Who would I tell?”

Roman nodded, but paused and chewed the inside of his lip. “That’s all, I guess,” he said. He settled back into his seat.“It was stupid of us to go out, really.”

“Well, maybe now it won’t happen again.”

“Maybe,” Roman said. He stood up. “Sorry to bother you, but thanks for listening and all. And I’m really sorry, again, about before.”

Patton nodded. “I hope everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” Roman said as he started to walk away. “Me too.”

Patton mused over his lunch until the bell rang and he rolled away to class.

***

“I’d like to begin with a quick activity,” Mr. Picani said, walking around the room to place slips of paper on students’ desks. “I often find that in group settings, students are shy to speak up in front of their classmates for fear of seeming silly. Now, I’m of the belief that there is no such thing as a stupid question, but sometimes we need a safe environment to share our questions and our feelings. So, let’s take a minute to write down any questions or feelings we might have that we may be too shy to share out loud.” He passed the last of the papers out, and then perched on the edge of his desk. “Remember, there are no stupid questions.”

Patton stared down at the blank clipping of paper. The top was uneven where Mr. Picani had sheared it away from the rest of the sheet. He tapped his pencil against his desk. Sometimes it was difficult to sort through everyone else’s feelings to find his own. He placed his glasses in his lap and blinked a few times, trying to retreat back into his own skull.

How did he feel? Well, he didn’t like that Mr. Sanders was gone. It made him...not scared...uneasy. Heroes weren’t supposed to go to jail. What had he gone to jail for, anyhow?

 _That’s a question,_ Patton realized. Was that information on the news? Oh well, _no stupid questions._ He wrote it down, his letters slightly crooked without the help of his glasses, and folded his paper in half. When Mr. Picani circled the classroom with a glass jar, Patton dropped his paper in. When the teacher made it back to the front of the room, he lightly shook the jar before drawing a few papers in his hand.

“Remember,” he said. “We aren’t here to make judgements, we’re here to have a discussion. Let’s see what we have here.”

Many of the papers were about Mr. Sanders’ arrest, lots of feelings reflecting what Patton had felt from the students throughout the day. _Uncomfortable, scared, upset, sad, angry, confused._

Every time Mr. Picani read off an emotion, he would say, “how many of you feel like that?” and several of the students would raise their hand. Mr. Picani sometimes raised his hand as well.

“I recognize,” Mr. Picani said, pulling his glasses off and setting the jar on the desk next to him. “That many of you still have a lot of unanswered questions. I want you to understand that we, the teachers, also still have questions. We are not hiding information, we’re right there with you.” He twirled the glasses between his hands. “I like to do activities like this to remind you that you aren’t alone, we all experience these emotions from time to time. This is a very confusing time for everybody, and it’s frustrating and saddening for us that this has happened right as all of you are beginning your time at UA.”

He reached into the jar again, and peeled open a scrap of paper which had been folded over itself many times. “Speaking of beginning your time at UA,” he said, a bit of his normal smile returning to his face. “This student says, ‘I am worried about Mr. Sanders because he seems nice but also I am still worried that my quirk is not as good as my classmates.’” As he read, Patton detected a sudden spark of fearful energy on the other side of the room. Virgil’s anxiety was spiking.

 _He wrote that,_ Patton realized.

“It’s almost nice to see such a common concern from a student,” Mr. Picani said. “And that’s what it is, a common concern. Anybody who is thinking or feeling this way, you are not alone either.” He smiled softly and gazed over the class. “Not everybody is so confident as they pretend to be here,” he said. “And many students compare themselves to upperclassmen or even to professional heroes. It’s important to remember that each and every one of you is here because you passed the same test as most of your classmates, or because you were professionally recommended by a current hero, and neither passing exam grades nor recommendations are given lightly.”

Patton drummed his fingers against his knee. He still wasn’t sure exactly what the entrance exam had contained, though he knew when the other students thought of it they experienced a rush of adrenaline. He was probably lucky he’d managed to bypass it. He knew without his quirk, of course, that Roman was the other recommended student. The son of two major heroes was unlikely to be otherwise.

“Everyone in this class has their quirk on record in student files,” Mr. Picani went on. “And every year we are impressed with the variety of talent among our students. Everyone in this room deserves to be here, and all of you are here to make the most out of your quirk, so you can use it for the most good.”

Virgil sunk lower in his seat, bouncing his leg.

 _He got in on the entrance exam that I didn’t even take,_ Patton thought. _Hundreds of people take it and don’t pass. How can he think his quirk isn’t good enough?_

Granted, Patton hadn’t seen Virgil’s quirk yet, but that was true for much of the class. People like Roman had the ability to be flashy and dramatic, but Virgil, Logan, and many other students chose to keep to themselves, and that included their quirk abilities. If it wasn’t for that moment in the cafeteria, Remy’s quirk would have remained secret until he’d tried to use it in the field test.

 _Think of the devil,_ Patton thought as Remy glanced over at him. Remy’s energy felt like pop rocks in his mind. It wasn’t a bad thing.

Mr. Picani talked through a few more questions and feelings before giving the students the rest of the class to themselves again. “However, assuming Mr. Sanders has not returned tomorrow, we will be picking up on the syllabus where you left off,” he said when the final bell rang.

Patton was always one of the last to leave; he didn’t like getting stuck in the crowd at the end of the day. He smiled politely to Mr. Picani when he left, and the man’s face wrinkled slightly around the eyes as he returned the glance. Patton wasn’t trying to pry, but there was a well of sadness below the teacher’s calm exterior, and Patton felt, as he always did, as if he’d entered into a room marked Private, where he wasn’t supposed to be.

As Patton rolled out of the doors of the school, he saw Virgil waving goodbye to Logan before shoving his hands into his pockets and slinking off in the other direction. Virgil always walked home at the end of the day; he must live close to the school. Patton rolled after him and reached out to touch his arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Virgil started to turn around, and then abruptly drove his gaze into the ground. “Yeah, fine. See you tomorrow.” He shuffled away like he was in a rush at the pool, but the lifeguard was watching from under the “no running” sign.

Patton’s phone buzzed before he could decide whether or not he ought to follow. When he glanced at the screen, his father’s icon lit up.

“Hey, Dad,” he said as he answered. “Everything okay?” It was remarkable, the lack of thought he picked up over the phone. Every conversation seemed a little mysterious. He supposed that was what it was like for other people all the time.

“Everything okay with _you_?” his father replied. There was light noise in the background, and Patton supposed his father was still at work. “I wish we’d had a chance to talk before you got on the bus this morning. Did you hear about what happened last night?” He wasn’t a hero, but Patton’s father seemed to be always up-to-date on villain news. It came from working in a hospital and seeing the casualties. There was also, of course, the other reason—

“Yeah, Dad, I heard all about it,” Patton said. No need to think about that.

“Weren’t snooping, I hope?” Dr. Summers joked.

“Only a little,” Patton admitted. “You remember Mr. Picani? He took over our class today. But I’m fine. Some of the other students were kind of upset, though.” _Roman._

“Well, you would know,” Dr. Summers said. “It’s all I heard about from the nurses at work today. You about to catch the bus home?”

“Yeah, if only I can get my dad to stop delaying me.”

“All right, all right, I get it. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you.”


	5. Virgil at USJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and his classmates are on a field trip for a tour of USJ, and Mr. Sanders still has not returned

Virgil kicked a stone in front of him as the class walked toward the bus. Next to him, Logan was going on about the history of U.S.J., their destination for Hero Studies class. Virgil wasn’t a fan of field trips. He almost envied Terrence, who had stayed home sick from school.

“Pick up the pace, gang,” Mr. Picani said. “Last I checked, none of you had lead feet as a quirk.” There had been no updates on Mr. Sanders, but Virgil and many of the other students had been watching the news religiously. All that had been released to the public was that Mr. Sanders had encountered an unnamed retired pro hero at the site of a recent vandalism, attacked him using his quirk, and fled the scene. Police officers had pursued, but initially lost the trail until Mr. Sanders was arrested in the early hours of the morning in his apartment. The date of his trial had not yet been announced.

“Am I boring you?” Logan asked, stopping mid-sentence.

“Oh, no, no,” Virgil said, spasmodically grabbing Logan’s wrist and then dropping it immediately. “Sorry, guess I’m a little caught up in my own head. What were you saying?”

“U.S.J. is a fascinating location, that is all,” Logan said. Mr. Picani checked their names off his list as they got on board the bus. “Think: a single building containing several ecosystems and terrains to prepare heroes for work in any field at all! Especially useful for disaster intervention, search-and-rescue...but I won’t go on.” He took one of the few remaining open seats, and Virgil sat beside him, on the aisle side. “What were you thinking about?”

“Mr. Sanders again,” Virgil said, lowering his voice and leaning toward Logan. He felt exposed sitting near the aisle. “Do you really think he attacked another hero?”

“Rumor has it the other hero was the Flying Falcon,” Logan said in an even lower voice. “But I don’t like spreading inconclusive evidence.”

“The Flying-” Logan shushed him. “The Flying Falcon?” Virgil whispered. “Roman’s dad?”

“Inconclusive evidence.”

Virgil craned over the back of his seat as the bus started. Roman was several seats back reading a comic book, the seat next to him empty.

_His posse not hanging out with him anymore?_ Roman had seemed a little quieter than usual yesterday. Then again, everyone had. Roman was dwelling an awfully long time on his page. _He’s no genius,_ Virgil thought, _But I’m pretty sure he can read._ Roman’s eyes did look a little glazed over, come to think of it—

Logan pulled gently on Virgil’s sleeve, and Virgil came back to himself as he slid back into the seat.

“It’s rude to stare,” Logan said. Virgil felt his neck flush hot as he bounced his leg. Logan must think he was a real ass. He stared down at his hands, and then toward the front window of the bus, watching for U.S.J. to appear on the horizon. Another disadvantage of sitting on the aisle side of the seat was limited window access.

“There it is,” Rafaela said a few minutes later, pointing. Students craned their necks to get a first glance at the dome.

“Please stay in your seats,” Mr. Picani said from the front of the bus. Students sulked back down.

U.S.J. didn’t look like much to Virgil. He’d gone on vacation once with his mom and visited the Omaha zoo, and the huge glass building reminded him of the desert dome that housed things like Fennec foxes and meerkats. He had a vague idea that once he entered U.S.J. he would be pounced on by a bobcat.

“The hero Glass runs the U.S.J.,” Kai whispered to Kenny from behind Virgil. “They’re so cool.”

Virgil vaguely recalled seeing Glass on television before. The hero could turn things they touched into glass, and also transform into a glass figure which, when damaged, could regenerate almost instantly. _That cheesy action figure,_ Virgil remembered. The little clear plastic arm that shot off and could “regrow with the power of his Quirk!” (that is, be replaced and reused). How many millions did heroes make off of dumb things like that?

Kai was bouncing up and down, grasping the back of Virgil’s seat and shaking it back and forth as the bus pulled up to the building. Virgil winced. He’d noticed that when Kai was overexcited, his quirk goo could leak from his nose and ears.

“Let’s go!” Kai said.

“Just a minute,” Mr. Picani said. “Your names must be checked off the list as you get off the bus, so don’t rush, now.”

“You checked us on off when we got on!” Kai whined, draping himself over his seat. Roman was instructed to check off names so Mr. Picani could lead the students into the building, and the students started to file into the aisle. Virgil wondered for a moment is Roman would be petty enough to leave Virgil’s name unchecked, but the class president’s face was serious as the other students got off the bus.

“Are you thinking again?” Logan asked, alighting just behind Virgil.

“A little,” Virgil admitted. At least Logan wasn’t embarrassed by Virgil’s awkward staring anymore.

“I do find the construction of U.S.J. compelling,” Logan said again. “The ecosystems…” He was staring at the building with barely-contained delight. “I’ve read about their systems of environment regulation for the six main zones. It’s fascinating. Do let me know if I go on about them too long.”

Virgil felt his lips contort irresistibly into a smile. Logan sure was a nerd, but it was kind of funny how excited he got. “You’re fine.”

Logan continued, rejuvenated by Virgil’s consent. “The main zones are the Ruins, the Landslide, the Mountain, the Flood, the Downpour, and the Conflagration zones. As their names suggest, each is related to a different environmental factor.”

Logan sounded almost like he was reciting from a book. _His quirk isn’t a photographic memory,_ Virgil thought. In fact, Logan was liable to forget things that didn’t interest him. _But it might as well be when it comes to this stuff._

“The Conflagration Zone is perhaps most impressive,” Logan went on. “Designed to simulate a city on fire, a blaze is kept constant within the zone, maintained by the environmental factors which prevent it from spreading into the other zones. It’s actually a very delicate balance, the design took years to perfect.” He spoke as proudly as if he’d designed it himself. The class began to move toward the entrance of the building where there was a large sign with U.S.J. emblazoned above it in gold letters.

“Glass is the official caretaker and one of the head designers, along with Multi-Man himself.” Logan’s arms moved emphatically. “Glass’ quirk is quite astonishing. I would be very interested in seeing it in person. Of course, they are also a faculty member. Perhaps they would prefer to be referred to by their civilian name.”

Other students were also commenting on the structure and its caretaker, but none in such technical terms as Logan, who had paused to take a breath after a particularly long paragraph.

“We’re going to process into the front entrance,” Mr. Picani said. “We’ll stop there and you’ll be directed into the next location.”

The students jostled a bit, and Virgil shrunk into his oversized hoodie. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to have grown two inches taller since they’d left the main campus. He was scanning each part of the building as they went through the front double doors, and Virgil imagined once again that he could hear Logan’s synapses firing.

The class oohed and ahhed as they entered the building. The raised platform they entered onto let them see across the entire space, which was more massive than a stadium. From their height, it reminded Virgil of an arena. In front of them was a blue arch leading to the stairs that descended into the rest of the building, which had a dirt floor. Smaller domes encased two of the environmental zones, but a real miniature mountain rose to the ceiling on their right, with a landslide arching down to its base where rested a mock town, small but with everything to real scale. It was so realistic Virgil expected to see people peering out of the windows to watch their arrival. At the edge of the town was a series of collapsed buildings which came almost up to the edge of the raised platform, and across from those was a lake to the students’ right; Virgil had anticipated a pool, a simulated lake, but the body of water had grass and even small trees at the edge, growing happily inside the pavillion with a healthy diet of lake water and sunshine.

The building seemed all sunshine, in fact. Even the mountain was contained inside the massive glass ceiling, and on this sunny day no artificial lights were needed. A few metal beams around the edge were the only reminder that they were not really outside.

Forgetting Mr. Picani’s instructions in their excitement, a couple students began to rush for the stairs that led down into the zones, but stopped suddenly, as if prevented by an invisible barrier.

“Woah there,” said a new voice. In their astonishment at seeing the building, none of the students had noticed the figure standing before him. The person had outstretched their hands to stop Kai with one arm and Rafaela with the other. They were not invisible, but clear through their entire body, and it was only as they began to return to their ordinary form that Virgil could make them out.

They wore ordinary black clothing that looked casual and modern. In place of the mask that usually covered the whole round face was a smile under dark eyes and hair. Virgil realized that the action figure had exaggerated the hero’s age: Glass could not be much older than some of the UA upperclassmen. A few students muttered the name in awe and surprise.

“Here, I’d ask that you refer to me as Mx. Stokes,” Glass said. “Glass is for field work and going on Ellen and things like that.”

Kai was staring up at Mx. Stokes in astonishment, mouth slightly agape. Mr. Picani walked up to the other hero.

“Mx. Stokes is going to begin by giving you all a bit of a tour, and then you’ll be prepared when you start using this place for rescue training,” he said

“That’s right,” Mx. Stokes agreed. “Do any of you know how many zones are in U.S.J.?”

Logan’s hand shot up so fast he almost smacked Virgil in the face.

“Yes?” Mx. Stokes said. “And your name is?”

Logan had begun after the teacher’s first word, so the response went something like “U.S.J-contains-eight-zones-six-of-which—Logan—six-of-which-contain-specific-environmental-factors.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Mx. Stokes said. “That’s correct. All of you are actually standing in the first zone now. The entrance is itself one of the zones, and if you’ll look down those steps you can see into the central plaza, which connects the entrance to the six environmental zones.”

Virgil stared past the other students down the massive flights of steps, lined with guardrails and wide enough that the whole class could have walked down side-by-side. At the base of the steps was the plaza, in the center of which was a circular green space. Virgil hadn’t noticed it at first; it had been dwarfed in size by the other zones. It was little more than a fountain surrounded by plants, a typical park centerpiece. It looked out of place only because it was framed by fallen buildings, a mountain, and a lake.

“Let’s start walking toward the plaza,” Mx. Stokes said, turning for the stairs. The students began to follow, Kai leading the way. Virgil grumbled at the thought of having to go back up the stairs again before they left. He envied Patton, who Mr. Picani was directing to a small elevator — too small for the whole class, but Virgil could dream.

“Now, when lots of people think of hero work,” Mx. Stokes went on. “They think first of TV stuff like punching people and blowing stuff up, right?” A few students muttered agreement. “Right! But the most important part of being a hero isn’t that stuff. Even more important than knocking the shit out of villains—”

“Glass,” Mr. Picani warned from the top of the steps.

“Knocking the stuffing out of villains is caring for the people we serve, and that often means search-and-rescue operations. Plenty of heroes are known for this kind of work.”

There was a beat of glances among the students. Rescue was Multi-Man’s speciality.

_If he wasn’t in jail, would he be giving us this speech?_ Virgil wondered.

“Now,” Mx. Stokes said, breaking the moment. “If the entrance is noon, we’re going to move around the zones clockwise. Does anybody know what the zone immediately to our left is called?” The students were halfway down the stairs, and the collapsed buildings began to loom to one side.

Logan’s hand shot up in the air again, but Mx. Stokes glanced over the students and called on Kai’s much shorter raised arm instead.

“The Ruined Zone,” Kai said.

“Ruins Zone,” Logan corrected in a whisper.

“Right, the Ruins Zone,” Mx. Stokes said. “Or the Collapse Zone. It probably looks a lot like the place where you guys had your heroes vs. villains exercise, and where you took your entrance exam.”

Virgil shuddered at the memory.

“However, the Ruins Zone is meant to simulate an urban environment in the middle of a disaster like an earthquake or tornado, and some of the buildings are not very stable.” They’d finally reached the base of the stairs and had landed almost among the buildings where Patton, just coming off the elevator, was waiting for them. Virgil was startled by the level of detail in the fallen city. Real road signs lay bent at the side of cracked roads. He could see inside individual broken windows and into the rooms inside. He could imagine himself, perched on top of a building in his mask. He could swoop inside the windows and rescue...who was inside the building? He imagined a crouched figure inside. Perhaps it was—

He cut off his daydream halfway. Unrealistic.

“Could...could one of the buildings collapse now?” Kai asked nervously.

“Nope,” Mx. Stokes said, hands on their hips. “The entire building is currently in safety mode. Nothing can hurt you right now so long as nobody goes messing around. But some of the beams and stones are very unstable and are liable to collapse if tampered with, so it’s not a good place to experiment if you don’t know it very well. Anybody know the name of this next zone?”

Since they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Logan had edged closer to the front of the class and was directly in Mx. Stokes line of sight when he raised his hand.

“Logan.”

“The Landslide Zone,” Logan enunciated.

“That’s right,” Mx. Stokes said, turning around to lead then away from the buildings and toward the small town, surrounded by forest and half-buried under the edge of the mountain with mud and rocks. “I think the name is pretty self-explanatory.”

Virgil was astonished with how long it took to walk first to the Landslide Zone and then all the way to the Mountain Zone, around five or six o’clock on Mx. Stokes’ imaginary map. Surely the building didn’t look this big from the outside? If he kept his gaze focused on the mountain, he found he could almost forget he was inside a building.

“Quite a lot of cliffs there,” Mx. Stokes declared after ignoring Logan’s hand to allow Remy to say “Mountain Zone.”

“Here’s a question,” Mr. Picani said, coming to stand beside Mx. Stokes. “I want each of you to think about your quirk strengths and weaknesses for a moment, and when we get back to the entrance, I’d like to hear which zones you feel work to your advantage and which would be most difficult for you.”

“Does this count as homework?” Remy asked.

Mr. Picani pointed a joking finger at the students. “Be lucky this is Hero Studies and not Literature or I’d have you write an essay on it.” A few students chuckled good-naturedly.

“We’ll take a quick break here,” Mx. Stokes said. “You guys can think about that question and take a quick look around the base of the mountain. No climbing though, okay?”

Some of the students practically sprinted toward the rocks, while Virgil and several others fell gratefully into splayed sitting positions.

“I am going to investigate the rock face, would you like to come?” Logan asked, leaning over Virgil.

“No thanks,” Virgil said. “Think I’m just gonna chill out here.”

“Understood.” Logan sped-walked away, paused to examine a root, and vanished behind a small clump of trees at the base of the mountain.

_It is cool, having all this stuff indoors,_ Virgil admitted to himself. But he was no geology student. He flopped onto his back. The ground felt like real dirt, and he stared through the ceiling’s metal beams to see the clouds drifting lazily overhead. He hadn’t slept well after the news about Mr. Sanders. It was silly but—

He was distracted from his thoughts as Mx. Stokes leaned in to say something to Mr. Picani, too quietly for Virgil to hear except as a mutter. The glass hero touched the other teacher on the arm, and the two took several steps away from the class, though Mr. Picani’s gaze still scanned the students, most of whom had run some distance away or were now chatting amongst themselves. Kai had made a bouncy ball using his goo quirk and he and Kenny were tossing it back and forth, occasionally sprinting after it when it managed to slip through their fingers.

_What was Glass saying to Picani?_ Half-closing his eyes, Virgil rolled onto his side as casually as possible to see the pair better. With the arrest of Mr. Sanders, maybe it was better not to trust anyone, not even the other UA teachers.

From Virgil’s distance, Mx. Stokes’ furrowed brows looked almost sympathetic as he spoke. Picani shooed the younger teacher away after a moment, and Mx. Stokes took a respectful step back.

.  
_Something’s going on between those two,_ Virgil thought. He glanced around to see if any of the other students were watching, but the only one nearby was Patton who was—

Looking at him.

Virgil quickly rolled over and went back to half-closing his eyes. _He probably didn’t see that,_ he tried to convince himself. It didn’t work. He really didn’t like Patton’s eyes. If Virgil had had the courage, he would have watched to see if Patton ever actually blinked, or if his eyes were always staring just a bit. He didn’t look back for several minutes, and was nearly drifting into a nap when Mx. Stokes’ voice broke out again.

“Okay, everybody come back!” Mx. Stokes called. “Roman, you’re class rep, aren’t you? Run around toward the mountain and make sure we’ve got everybody back.”

Virgil pushed himself back into a standing position and dusted himself up without checking to see whether Patton was looking at him.

“Enjoyed your rest?” Logan asked as he approached.

“Enjoyed your investigating?” Virgil responded.

“Thoroughly. They’ve used an ingenious mix of sedimentary rock and artificial materials to create an accurate imitation of a genuine landmass. The trees are growing via an irrigation system routed from the lake under the tile.”

“Who knows the name of the next zone?” Mx. Stokes asked. Logan’s delight at the discovery of sediment and irrigations had distracted him long enough that he had not raised his hand by the time the question was answered.

“The Conflagration or Fire Zone.”

“That’s right, Roman,” Mx. Stokes said. “Let’s start moving that way. And before any of you freak out—” The teacher raised their hands defensively. “The safety settings make the location totally secure.”

A few students scoffed, but Virgil stifled a grateful sigh. The Conflagration Zone, situated near seven o’clock, was the first of the zones covered completely in a dome, this one red instead of clear, with drawn-on flames rising along the sides. Ordinarily, Virgil would have thought of it as a large building, but dwarfed by the entire U.S.J. it was much less impressive. Virgil could almost feel Logan shaking with excitement next to him.

“How does the Conflagration Zone work?” Virgil said, deadpan.

“Very interesting that you would ask!” Logan almost burst out. “Actually, the fire in the space is maintained via a chemical balance, not by burning materials, which regulates it while simulating real fire. Many of the materials inside are actually functionally fireproof. A ventilation system maintains a regulated amount of smoke, and—”

“So,” Mx. Stokes began from the front of the group. Logan trailed off his lecture to listen. “We’re about to go inside the dome now. We are going to stop right inside the entrance, where there won’t be any fire, so don’t break off from the group or run around.”

The doors looked as if they might lead into an ordinary pavillion or museum, but Virgil shivered (ironically, he thought) at the prospect of going inside. He pulled his hood over his head.

“The Conflagration Zone is an environmentally controlled space—” The teacher’s voice changed as he crossed the threshold of the dome, and Virgil was pushed along as the students followed. It was a good thing Logan had already told him about the zone, because he couldn’t hear Mx. Stokes talking over the roaring in his ears.

Like the Ruins Zone, the space contained rubble and several collapsed buildings, all engulfed in fire. Standing just inside the door was like facing a ragin campfire, and Virgil flushed in the heat. There was no lighting inside the dome besides the flames, so the entire place was illuminated in red and orange. A few mock streets between buildings were the only places away from the entrance that seemed to be totally clear of fire. The class’ brief stay inside was mostly a blur for Virgil, and he breathed deeply when they turned and proceeded back outside. Outside, Virgil realized, was how he thought of the inside of U.S.J., despite the domed ceiling above them.

“Everybody really likes this next spot,” Mx. Stokes said. “Who knows what it’s called?”

“Flood Zone,” a few students said at once.

“Right, sometimes called the Shipwreck Zone,” Mx. Stokes went on. “Nice relief after that heat, huh?”

The students muttered agreement. Near nine o’clock arched the clear blue water of the artificial lake, a large yacht bobbing like a massive buoy two hundred yards from the shore. Behind the lake rose up a small mountain on which perched wooden scaffolding to support a amusement-park-style waterslide, funneling water into the lake. The main slide twisted around several times, reaching the height of an office building, and was wide enough that the entire yacht could have slid inside it. An offshoot from the slide did not come to rest in the water, but jutted out over the zone, spewing water to form a waterfall.

“Looks fun, right?” Mx. Stokes said. “You can’t see from here, but rock formations stab out of the belly of the slide, and the way down is pretty dangerous. The slide and boat are fully functional, though. You guys can check them out when you come back for your first session of rescue training.”

They’d reached the edge of the water, and Mx. Stokes bent down on the mossy shore to reach into the water and cup it in their hand.

“Lightly chlorinated,” they said. “To keep out bacteria and the like. You can even—” and they slurped the water from their hand like they were taking a shot. “Though I don’t necessarily recommend it. Go ahead and touch if you like.”

Several of the students plunged their hands into the water. Kai slipped off his sandals and dipped in his toes. Virgil slid down to sitting and felt the wet ground sink slightly under his weight. When he stuck his fingers into the lake, he could still see them clearly, if slightly distorted in shape and blued in color.

Logan plopped down next to Virgil and plunged his arm in all the way up to his shirt sleeve. When he pulled his hand back out, he’d grasped a fistful of soil from the edge of the water.

“Incredible,” he said, rubbing the grains of sandy dirt between his fingers. “They’ve actually incorporated the lake directly into the ground of the location. The irrigation of the water must be highly advanced.” When he sat back up, the front of his shirt was blurred with mud, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“The lake is connected directly to our next zone,” Mx. Stokes said, gesturing to the dome near ten o’clock. “The Downpour Zone’s ceiling and floor are routed with pipes to and from the lake to create the constant rain without wasting water. Now, I can see you’re all enjoying the lake, but I’m not sure you all would like to walk into the eye of a storm.”

Virgil suspected Logan would enjoy that very much, if it meant a chance to learn about irrigation or whatever it was.

“So, we’re going to walk along the dome and take a look through the doors, and we won’t be getting soaked,” Mx. Stokes said, beginning to walk around the edge of the lake toward the second dome at a brisk trot. Some of the students took an extra moment to get up from the shore, and Kai skipped several steps as he tried to put on his left sandal. Mr. Picani brought up the rear.

“You guys still with me?” Mx. Stokes called over their shoulder smilingly. “We’re almost done, I promise.”

As they approached the final dome, there was a faint sound of thunder from within, muffled by the walls, and Virgil had an image of the Downpour Zone as a snowglobe on Mx. Stokes’ mantlepiece. The dome was indigo and dappled with large painted clouds of blue and purple, intersected with large beams. When the teacher swung the double doors in to let the students peer inside, Virgil remained suspended near the back of the group. He’d seen storms before, and he only had to wait through a few minutes of oohs and ahhs before it was the time he’d been dreading: time to ascend back up all those massive stairs to the exit. _Do you want to be a hero or not?_ he asked himself in an attempt at motivation.

_Not that badly,_ he responded.

The entire group sans Patton and Mr. Picani, who had returned in the elevator, slugged up the stairs. The only students still apparently full of energy were Kai and Logan, who had sparked a conversation in their mutual admiration of the space and were now gibbering away to one another excitedly.

Too discouraged by the stairs to keep up, Virgil walked a few steps behind. It looked like Logan had found a new, more willing set of ears, even if those ears sometimes leaked goo. Virgil found he wasn’t relieved to be rid of Logan’s lecturing, and managed to catch a few snippets of their conversation.

“The production of the building was a direct result of…that’s why I find it so interesting....me too!”

Kai was several inches shorter than Logan, and did pant for breath about halfway up the stairs. Virgil slowed even further, but still caught up to the pair.

“Hello, Virgil,” Logan said. He was smiling. “Kai also knows a lot regarding the history of U.S.J.”

“I’m a big Glass fan,” Kai said, pausing to catch his breath.

“I figured.” Virgil hadn’t meant to sound so cold, but Kai’s nose was leaking goo again. The shorter boy sniffed and then suddenly tensed. “Oh no, don’t—” Virgil didn’t get a chance to finish before Kai let out a massive sneeze, splattering Virgil with flecks of goo like smashed Jell-O.

“Oh, gross!” he said instinctively, shoving Kai away from him. Whether the other student was already thrown off balance or whether he’d pushed harder than he meant to Virgil was never quite sure, but Kai tumbled back and would have fallen onto his butt if Logan had not been directly behind him. Too surprised to catch Kai, Logan fell back against the railing of the stairs with an “oof,” Kai essentially in his lap. His glasses went flying.

Kai exclaimed and threw out one hand as if to catch the glasses, and they were enveloped suddenly by goo shot from his fingers before they flew past the safety rail and over the edge of the tall, tall staircase.

Kai almost screamed. “I’m really sorry!” he said, covering the noise of Virgil swearing.

Virgil leaned down to drag Kai to his feet — he was very light — and take Logan by the hand.

“I think my glasses…” Logan muttered.

“They went over the edge,” Virgil said. “Gosh, I’m so so sorry, will you need new ones? Can you see okay? Should I—”

“Oh, they’re not broken!” Kai insisted.

“What?” Logan got back to his feet.

“They’re not broken,” Kai said. “My goo is a shock absorber, they’ll be protected.”

“Everything okay back there?” Mx. Stokes had been leading the group, but paused when Kai shouted, and had now turned around to approach them. Mr. Picani appeared at the top of the steps after exiting the elevator with Patton and was also peering down to see why the group had paused.

“We’re so sorry, Mx. Stokes,” Virgil stuttered. “It was my fault. Logan’s glasses fell over the side of the stairs.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Mx. Stokes said after a beat. They leaned over the guardrail to peer into the Ruins Zone below. “Can’t see much from here, huh? Well, why don’t you — and what’s your name, kid?” They planted their left hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Virgil.”

“Okay, Virgil, I don’t think Logan here will be much help to you down there.”

Logan had, in fact, lost his depth perception and was experimentally walking up and down the nearest three steps with only minimal success.

“You...you want me to go down there?” Virgil asked. He was unsure how to put confused emphasis on every word in a sentence at once.

Mx. Stokes tapped their thumb against their lip. “Here, Virgil, why don’t you take your class rep, he’s a popular guy, right? His light quirk will be a big help down there.” Virgil had no time to protest before Mx. Stokes was waving. “Hey, Roman! Hop down here a minute!”

Roman was near the front of the group but trooped down the steps at the sound of his name. Mx. Stokes slapped their right hand onto his shoulder so they stood in a T-pose connecting the boys (albeit a crooked T, because Roman was taller than Virgil).

“You’re gonna take a jaunt with Virgil here to recover Logan’s glasses,” Mx. Stokes said. “Think of it like a real hero mission, boys.”

Roman looked unimpressed.

“Now,” Mx. Stokes went on. “Safety settings are still on in all zones, so there’s nothing dangerous down there so long as neither of you messes with anything. Just go ahead and run down there and right back up and we’ll hold the bus for you.” They lightly smacked both the boys’ shoulders and jogged away, gesturing for the rest of the class to follow.

“I really appreciate it, Virgil,” Logan said, touching Virgil’s arm lightly before walking away and leaving Virgil facing Roman on the middle of the stair.

The two stared at one another for a second before Roman huffed and started off down the steps. “Well, are we going or not?”

Virgil bit his tongue. He supposed putting up with Roman was enough of a punishment for sending Logan’s glasses spiraling into a collapsed city, and began to follow the other boy down, loath to think that he’d have to climb the stairs all over again.

When Virgil reached the base of the steps, Roman had wandered a few steps into the city and was staring around the ground, occasionally swearing under his breath.

“Thought you and Specs were buddies or something,” he said, peering under some fallen beams. “What’d you knock his glasses off for?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Virgil snapped.

“Geez, chill out,” Roman said, straightening up. “Just a question. Where did the damn things go, anyhow?”

“They fell over there,” Virgil said, pointing deeper into the ruins. There were a number of beams arching above the walk and though a strong sunlight was coming through the ceiling, it was difficult to see underneath them. “Why don’t you just use your quirk?”

“I don’t need to use it for everything!” Roman said a little too loudly.

“Geez, just a question,” Virgil said, imitating Roman and sticking out his tongue.

“What, jealous since you’re basically quirkless anyway?”

“Hey, fuck off!” Virgil said, bristling. “I didn’t drag you down here or anything.”

“You said it was your fault the stupid things fell.” Roman took a few steps toward Virgil, his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, but it’s not my fault that you’re acting like a massive ass,” Virgil snarled.

“Oh, fuck off, I’ll get the stupid things myself.” Roman whirled around. He stalked away, shaking slightly at the shoulders. Just as he was about to round the corner of one of the collapsed buildings, he took a furious swing at a low hanging beam, the impact of which created a hollow groaning sound. Roman kept walking.

Virgil was about to follow him when suddenly the groaning grew instead of faded, and the beam shuddered and collapsed directly over Roman’s head.


	6. Logan at USJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the collapse at USJ, the students return to UA and hear about an upcoming school event.

Logan leaned over the edge of the guardrail to gaze into the ruined city below. He squinted, but without his glasses he couldn’t see much more than the blurry shapes of the buildings. Virgil and Roman were just smudges on the ground, and both vanished from sight as they walked under overhanging beams.

A moment later there was a faint groaning from below which rose suddenly to a roar as one of the massive beams began to slide to one side. Logan felt a cry rising in his throat just as the beam suddenly froze in its path and went lumbering through the air in the other direction and smashing against a building, where it broke and fell to the ground as rubble. A cloud of dust and debris rose so wide that Virgil and Roman were totally hidden from view. Logan turned to look for Mx. Stokes and Mr. Picani, but several other students were already screaming for them

Logan squinted, but there was no chance of seeing to the ground. He started down the stairs as quickly as he could. It was difficult to see where each step ended, so he ran with a guess. He tripped once, but caught himself with a wild flailing of his arms. He could hear the teachers trying to restore calm, and hoped they weren’t watching him. Without his glasses even his quirk was weak. Well, even weaker than usual.

The dust was beginning to settle when Logan reached the bottom of the steps, but it didn’t help much with his blurry vision. The beam had made a depression in one of the buildings, but the other damage was minor. Logan resisted a cough.

“Virgil? Roman?”

A sudden blast of light emerged from the buildings, and Logan saw Virgil’s silhouette (too short to be Roman’s) illuminated for a moment before Roman followed his glowing hand into the open. He was using one arm to shield his mouth and nose, and the other to light his way; he seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled through his arm after two throat-clearing coughs. The dust was settling, and Logan could see Virgil standing between him and Roman. Both boys were so dirty from the settling dust that their blue uniform jackets were now khaki in color. “What the hell did you do?” Roman insisted. He dropped his arm and even through his blurry vision Logan could tell that the other boy looked vaguely shell-shocked.

Virgil was shaking wildly as he tried to gesticulate an answer. “You..you hit the buildi— you knocked down the beam.”

“Knocked down?” Roman yelled. “That thing went flying through the air, you maniac! You could have killed somebody!”

“I saw it,” Logan said.

“Oh, so you’re here now,” Roman said, noticing Logan for the first time. “You didn’t see jack shit without these.” He chucked a blob at Logan, who caught it and looked down to recognize his glasses inside a sphere of Kai’s polypeptide gel. The durable nature of the material made it difficult to break into, but the glasses seemed unharmed

“Logan, what did you see?” Virgil asked.

Logan tried to break through the outer layer of gel to his glasses. “Unfortunately, not much. I was at a height of multiple stories and without my usual lenses. The beam did certainly behave outside the law of gravity. It began to slide downward, and then suddenly jerked upward and into that building.”

“Mess up halfway through trying to crush me, huh?” Roman growled. “The hell kind of quirk do you have?” He was very near Virgil, and had one finger raised as if to jab him.

Virgil was bristling. “Shut up, lightbulb,” he said, still unsteady but no longer stuttering. “I just saved your stupid life.”

“You just better stay out of my way, pipsqueak,” Roman said. “And you.” He reversed his finger to point to Logan. “Don’t lose your damn glasses again, okay?”

Logan didn’t have a moment to come up with a response before he was interrupted by a shout from above. Mr. Picani was almost falling down the stairs, and came to the base out of breath.

“You boys okay?” he asked, hands extended as if prepared to shield them. “Mx. Stokes said that all the safety settings are still in operation, no idea what happened.”

“We’re fi-,” Virgil said.

“We don’t know what happened either,” Roman said over Virgil. “But we got the glasses back. Sir.”

“All that matters is that everybody’s fine,” Mr. Picani insisted, ushering them toward the stairs. “We can replace glasses, but we can’t replace our students.”

Virgil and Roman didn’t speak on the trek back up the stairs, but even without his glasses Logan could see the tension between the two.

“Are you really all right?” he asked Virgil once they’d come out of the building and Roman had jogged a few steps ahead. Mx. Stokes has quelled the students’ panic and was escorting them onto the bus.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “Just real sick of Roman.”

“I can tell you don’t like him very much,” Logan said. He finally ripped his glasses free of their gooey prison and then leaned down in a confidential whisper. “To be completely frank, I share your sentiments.”

Virgil stifled a laugh. “Thanks.”

Mx. Stokes repeated Mr. Picani’s concerns as they got to the bus, and then smiled broadly once they confirmed they were all right.

“You kids will get to play in the zones soon enough,” Mx. Stokes promised, brushing dust off of Virgil’s shoulder. “But I don’t need you guys down there without training.” They checked the boys off their checklist and gave a friendly wave. “Last thing we need is another UA accident!”

Mr. Picani paused outside the bus to say something to the other teacher as Logan and Virgil climbed on. There was only one empty pair of seats left near the front of the bus, and Logan stepped aside in the aisle. Virgil paused, and then slid in first.

“You don’t want the window?” he asked.

“You didn’t seem to like the aisle on the ride here,” Logan said. “Would you like to switch?”

“No, that’s fine.” Virgil shrunk a little and stared out the window. Logan hoped he wasn’t offended. He glanced out the door of the bus. Mx. Stokes was patting Mr. Picani on the shoulder, and the two parted as the bus’ engine started.

Logan wasn’t sure if the other students thought the same, but it was nice to see two professional heros with such a friendship. In the media heroes were often in hot competition, or at the best participated in work-required teams. In the real world, however, Logan had now seen the great Glass pat Mesmerman on the shoulder like an old friend.

He settled against his seat as the bus pulled away. He was tempted to ask Virgil more about what had happened in the Ruins Zone, but wasn’t sure how to begin, so they rode in silence for several minutes as the students behind them babbled about the visit.

“Hey,” Virgil said after a while.

Logan glanced up.

“You have…” Virgil tapped his temple. “Some goo on your glasses, still.”

***

Despite the unanticipated loss of Logan’s glasses and collapse in the Ruins Zone, the class arrived back at UA just as lunch was beginning, and Logan and Virgil were joined by Remigius, who offered them sticks of gum which they refused before he popped three into his own mouth.

“Pretty wild what happened down there,” he said. “I saw that beam go flying. You got your glasses back though, I see.” This last part was to Logan, who nodded. Remy blew a bubble, and there was a moment of pause before it popped. “You must have some quirk, little dude,” he said to Virgil. “Because I know that wasn’t Ro’s handiwork by a long shot.”

Virgil shrunk and laughed stiffly.

“Let’s get in the line before it gets too long,” Logan suggested, and Virgil followed. Remigius had a paper bag in one hand, and split off to seat himself at a table.

“You don’t seem to like Remigius asking too many questions,” Logan said as they waited.

“He’s a fine guy,” Virgil said. “Just...yeah.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

When they filed back into the classroom after lunch, Mr. Picani was writing in large strokes on the board: UA SPORTS FESTIVAL. A few students oohed and ahhed.

“Before you begin your final classes of the day,” Mr. Picani said, “I wanted to remind you all that next week begins the annual sports festival here at UA. I’m sure you’re all familiar with it, but we’ll be going over a few details today and discussing it in more length in your Hero Studies classes this week.”

The UA Sports Festival was televised every year; with the most prestigious hero program in the country, it was hardly surprising that so many people tuned in. Professional heroes and scouts often contacted the school following the festival with early offers for apprenticeships and nominations to high-ranking students.

“Preliminaries will be after lunch on Monday,” Mr. Picani said. “The top forty-two students to complete the preliminaries will pass into the main festival rounds. Remember that not only hero students, but also students in your grade from the support, management, and general courses will be participating. Therefore, no hero suits will be permitted on the field.” Several hands had flown into the air. “Hold your questions for now, as we’re a little short on time,” Mr. Picani said. “But begin thinking about your plans for the festival; as first-year students, you’ll be presented as heroes-in-training to the public for the first time.” He underlined the words he’d written on the board. “I’ll get out of the way of Mx. Talyn for your science class now.”

Logan found that even he had trouble focusing on biology while thinking about the sports festival. He stared at a Bunsen burner on the windowsill and began drawing its component parts absentmindedly in his notebook. He began making lines to start labeling the drawing, and realized that they looked like a sports bracket. He turned the page. He usually enjoyed Mx. Talyn’s lessons, but now he could only hear a vague chattering in the background as he drew a full bracket, beginning with sixteen contenders. Of the forty-two entrants to the first round, only sixteen proceeded on to the one-on-one rounds. Those would be the students to receive the most media attention.

The hero course was divided into two sections, 1-A and 1-B, with 1-A being Logan’s class and both classes containing twenty students. The support, management, and general classes were of the same size and almost equally prestigious, but didn’t focus on hero techniques or quirk use. There were occasionally dramatic underdog stories, like a strong-quirked general student making it into the semifinals, but usually the other classes were trumped by the hero students. Logan tapped his pen against his desk. If classes 1-C through 1-K contained twenty students each as well, then there was a total of 220 students attending UA, and only forty-two slots in the festival.

“Putnett squares are an excellent display for genetic odds,” Mx. Talyn said, drawing a two-by-two chart on the board. “We can see how likely an outcome is using this visual.”

_If we’re going to talk odds…_ Removing other benefits and deficiencies, any individual student had a 19% chance to conquer the preliminaries, and a 7% chance to enter the one-on-one rounds. Logan tried to remember previous years. Hero students were far more likely to pass the preliminaries, but that was no guarantee. He also had no idea about the quality of the second hero class, 1-B, who had the benefit of not losing their homeroom teacher in the first week of the school year. Logan wished he had the previous years’ data in front of him. Making it to the festival would be an excellent initial promotion into his hero career.

Of course, Logan mused, every other student would be thinking the same thing. Virgil was splaying pencil spirals in his notebook, and Roman had spaced out in the direction of the board. Kai’s nose was running again. Logan sporadically took off his glasses to clean them against his shirt.

The rest of the school day was much the same. Students were quiet but unfocused in class, and loud and with a single goal between classes. Roman’s posse sans Roman were an especial contributor.

“My mom remembers seeing Mr. Picani at the festival when I was a baby!” Rafaela announced. “She told me as soon as she heard he was one of our teachers.”

“That’s crazy, Mr. Picani and the other teachers were just like us not so long ago,” Kenny responded.

“That was the year the villain Spite threatened the city,” Kai said. “That was what first made Multiman famous.”

“He’d only just graduated, too,” Rafaela said.

Virgil turned in his seat to stare at Logan. “Sports festival, huh?”

“It’s a great opportunity,” Logan said. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking I’ll be lucky to make it past the preliminaries.” He swung his feet back and forth under the desk and swiveled to look at the empty seat behind him. “Too bad Terrence is sick, he won’t hear about it.”

“We’ll fill him in tomorrow,” Logan said. “He and I are from the same neighborhood. We walk home together and I can tell him about it.”

“So you won’t be walking with him today, then,” Virgil said.

“Not today, I’ll miss him.”

“Well...I wouldn’t want to replace Terrence or anything, but I’ll walk with you. If you want.”

Logan blinked. It was a kind offer, but Virgil always left the school in the opposite direction; they weren’t from the same neighborhood. “Don’t you go west when school ends?

“Right, nevermind, sorry,” Virgil said. “I was just thinking I could walk you home and then...turn around and go back. It’s silly.”

Logan suspected the arrangement was not for Virgil’s convenience, and supposed that the only alternative motivation was that Virgil enjoyed spending time with Logan. It would be rude to crush his suggestion. “You can’t live too far from school,” he said. “Are you near West Midoriya Hospital?”

“Just a few blocks from there,” Virgil said.

“My mother’s studio is near there,” Logan said. “We could walk to your house and she could come to get me when she leaves work.”

“Oh, you don’t want to come to my place,” Virgil raised his hands defensively.

“Well, you wanted to come to mine.”

“Isn’t that a little out of your way?”

“Not as far out of the way as your walking me home and turning around would be.”

“You got me.”

***

Logan didn’t walk often on the west side of town, so he tried to take in the route Virgil walked by rote, in case he ever needed to find his way again. A text from his mother confirmed she could pick him up at five, so he only regretted he hadn’t put a snack in his backpack in the morning.

He and Virgil had plenty to talk about with the upcoming sports festival, so the subject of the strange event in the Ruins Zone did not come up again, and the walk — longer than Logan’s usual one — did not seem long at all, and they soon arrived at a small brick apartment building. Logan followed Virgil through the library and up a flight of stairs, where Virgil let himself into apartment 208.

There were many photos on the walls of the apartment, most of them of Virgil and a women Logan assumed was Virgil’s mother. One recent picture, of Virgil’s middle school graduation, was placed prominently near the front door. The other photos stretched back through Virgil’s childhood. There was one of him staring grumpily at the camera in corduroy overalls and a fresh haircut on his first day of kindergarten, and a photo of the haircut itself; young Virgil’s eyes squinted at the clippers as they sheared off several inches of his dark hair and left behind buzzed sides. There was a photo of his first birthday, his mother crouched over his shoulder to blow out the candle of a cupcake for him. Baby Virgil’s eyes were wide in admiration of the tiny flame, the same color as his lacey birthday dress.

“Ugh, ignore those,” the teenage version of Virgil said to Logan. “My mom sure likes taking photos.” Virgil’s mother looked a lot like her son, with dark hair and a thin but lively face.

“They’re nice,” Logan said. “Thanks again for having me over.”

“It’s no big deal.” Virgil slumped his backpack off next to a coat rack before wandering toward the kitchen. “Do you want, uh...soda?”

“Sure,” Logan said, following. The kitchen connected to a small living room and held a two-chair table with folded leaves. There were two doors across the room, one slightly ajar to reveal part of a bathroom sink and mirror. More photos were on the wall, some of a younger version of Virgil’s mother sans Virgil. Her hair had been longer back then. There were also some of Virgil’s childhood drawings in frames and two pride flags pinned on the closed door, one bisexual and one, smaller and newer, trans.

“Sorry, I don’t host much,” Virgil said. “That’s the bedroom over there, and I sleep on the foldout. That’s about it. Do you want a cream soda or a Hero-Cola?” He squatted in front of the fridge.

“Cream soda,” Logan said. “Thank you.” He glanced back at the photos on the wall, trying to think how to continue the conversation. “What’s your mother like?”

“She’s cool,” Virgil said, getting a Hero-Cola for himself. “She’s just busy. She went back to school and all a couple years ago, so now she studies and writes her management thesis every night after work.” He snapped his soda open with a satisfying _crack._ “She wants to build a better life for us and all, you know?”

Logan nodded. “She sounds very nice.” He fumbled again for a way to continue the conversation. “My mother is a photographer too.”

“That’s cool,” Virgil said as he sunk into one of the two chair seats. “Do you want to…”

“Sure,” Logan was already moving to sit, and set his backpack on the floor. “Um...is that one yours?” He pointed at the bisexual flag.

“My mom’s,” Virgil said.

“Oh.” Logan’s brief playground romance with Corbin meant he’d never “come out” to his middle school friends, but besides Terrence he wasn’t sure how many of his A-1 classmates had taken the hint yet.

“I’m actually gay,” Virgil said suddenly, shattering Logan’s mental image of strutting into UA wearing a rainbow flag as a cape.

“Oh!” Logan said, so loud that Virgil flinched. “No, that’s great! No, no, I mean, me too!”

“Oh,” Virgil said, quieter and longer than Logan had.

Logan felt heat rising in his ears. “So, about the festival, I think you said you taped last year’s competition?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, leaping onto this new topic. “On a VHS, can you believe it? Surprised the machine even still works. Want to watch it?”

“I was just thinking today how helpful it would be for my notes if I could analyze previous competitions.” Logan reached into his backpack and fumbled for a minute. “I was running the numbers today and — oh here it is.” He produced the notebook and flipped a few pages. “Any individual student has a 19% chance to pass the preliminaries, but as hero students, I’m almost certain the chance is much higher, but I just don’t have the data.”

“Eleven years ago, only seven non-hero students passed, and only two made it to the one-on-one,” Virgil mused.

“Eleven years ago?”

Virgil rolled his eyes as he stood to cross into the living room. “My mom taped that one for me when I was little. I watched it so many times the tape broke, but I remember every detail. Picani was in his final year then, you know. He’s only twenty-nine now.” He knelt down and shuffled DVDs under the TV. “Here’s the one from last year.” Virgil glanced over his shoulder. “We can watch it for uh...your notes.”

“That would be excellent.”


End file.
